


The War of the Roil: The Knight and the Warlock

by KevintheJace



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Angels, Asexual Character, Assassination Plot(s), Blood and Gore, Conspiracy, Demons, Dimensional Travel, Epic Battles, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Genetic Disorders & Abnormalities, Genetic Engineering, Geneva Convention? More like Geneva suggestion, Gods, Hard Magic, High Fantasy, I was told to add as many tags as I could this is hell, It's not actually that bad, Magic, Magic Power Armor, Magic-Users, Magical Artifacts, Non-Sexual Slavery, Not the titans you're thinking of, Or Is It?, Original Fiction, Original Universe, Original nonhuman species, POV Third Person Limited, Politics, Religious Fanaticism, Sieges, Strategy & Tactics, Titans, Two Protagonists, War, War Crimes, Worldbuilding, You'll just have to find out, eldritch horror, epic fantasy, magical nukes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 132,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KevintheJace/pseuds/KevintheJace
Summary: A thousand years ago, the world of Karnath was led to salvation by the Order of Champions, demigod-like soldiers who won a war against the Titans, a breed of human attempting to make themselves gods. A  millennia after their victory, the world is in shambles with meager empires and petty kingdoms fighting for dominance over the continent. The descendants of the Champions have either been lost or are treated as super weapons for one nation or another.  Chief among these nations is the Empire of Atrell, who have recently gained custody over a street rat named Edmund Isley and a noblewoman named Lara Shawe. While on separate fronts of expansionist wars, each must find their own path to survive in a world plagued by turmoil. And perhaps, dealing with inheriting a destiny neither asked for.WARNING: Characters in this novel experience sexual assault related trauma(never happens on-screen or off, just in one character's past) and various possible war crimes. Please assess your own ability to read content regarding these topics comfortably.
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue: Battle of the Ansami Isles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For nearly ten years, Titans, products of humans interacting with forces they were never intended to know of, have ravaged the world in a war to topple and kill the gods of Karnath. In the oceans of the islands where the war began, the Order of Champions seeks to put it to an end.

Hybald staggered to his feet on the tiny, rocky isle he had made a crater in, leaning on the curved saber in his hands. He lifted the metal visor on his helmet, breathing raggedly. The warm sensation of blood running down his cheek affirmed that he could still feel.

Just how many were there?

 _Hybald? Hybald! Are you alright?_ The voice of Nadriel, Hybald's guardian angel, came through him in his mind. Her soul was imbued in his weapon.

Hybald groaned, "How many Titanspawn are left?"

_Thousands. They just keep streaming out of the rift. There's no end to them!_

Hybald squinted, looking out at the vast ocean. A layer of dark clouds had been cast over the sea, sourced from a small crack in reality miles away.

The Knight placed his palm on the pommel of his saber, which held the tiny, but powerful crystal known as the Clarion Stone.

Energy flowed through Hybald's body, giving birth to a pair of pristine, white, feathered wings that extended from his back.

A single flap sent him soaring into the air, even with his full plate armor. He flew across the ocean, towards the site of the battle.

His nine other companions fought alongside the giant airships and war machines of the Resistance, all those in the world who dared make a stand against the Titans and their war on the gods.

Hybald reached his hands out, burning the massive well of arcane Flerical energy in his body, manifesting itself in a Truthfler. A patch of ocean surrounding one of the many decrepit galleons of scrap metal owned by the Titanspawn froze solid, trapping the vessel.

He landed upon their deck. Hideous creatures they were, writhing globs of flesh grafted together with metal. The Titanspawn, with their variable mandibles, claws and deformed bodies that looked like they could've once been human, turned towards him.

Hybald flicked out his hand, sending a powerful wave of kinetic force out at them. Many were knocked over by the blast. The others rushed at him in a horde.

The Knight deflected the strikes that came at him from weapons and limbs with barely any effort before swinging his sword. The force of the blocked attacks was released to their senders, dismembering every standing Titanspawn in a twenty foot radius.

"Look out!" A male voice cried as The Architect, bearer of the Dragonscale shield slid in front of Hybald just as a small canister the size of his forearm hurtled towards them.

The canister hit the round shield of the Architect and unleashed a blinding white light that consumed the area around them.

When the light faded, the ocean crashed into the half-mile radius sphere of empty space left in its wake.

Hybald grabbed the Architect and launched them into the air as what remained of the ship sank into the water.

"What in the Roil was that?" Hybald asked.

"Miniature Dying Star." The Architect shouted, "We're lucky it wasn't as big as the one that hit Ansam."

"Have the Titans been sighted yet?"

"The Thief hasn't come back, so the Marksman went looking for him."

"I'm going to go survey the battle. If I find them, I want everyone to be ready." Hybald said, "I'll signal my location."

"Right!"

Hybald let the Architect down on the deck of a Resistance airship before taking off again.

Hybald glided around the outskirts of the battlefield, looking for their true enemy. White spheres of Dying Stars detonated all around the sea, erasing multiple ships from existence. The cacophony of explosions and crashes played the bittersweet, electrifying melody of war that echoed in Hybald's heart with every battle.

But it stopped as Hybald's eyes locked on Vancen, the Titan of Eternity. The Titan was standing by on a large battleship made of scrap metal.

Hybald slammed down his visor and raised his saber in the air. It let off a brilliant flash of light, sending the signal to the other Champions.

"Vancen!" Hybald shouted as he dived.

The man with flesh made from shadows, crackling with electric blue energy and wrapped in armor of darkness looked up at the Knight. So meager was his stature and yet, he called himself a Titan.

"Good to see you again, Knight!" Vancen roared, unleashing a barrage of violet bolts of energy.

Hybald weaved in and out of the volley of pure Megyno radiation and slammed his boot into Vancen's jaw. The Titan of Eternity landed flawlessly from the blow.

Hybald allowed his angel wings to dissipate as he landed, falling into a practiced swordplay stance.

"You should know I'm beyond a simple vulnerability to blades, strikes and flers." Vancen growled, "Pure Megyno energy runs through my veins."

"Blasphemous scum." Hybald hissed, "Megyno was never meant to be used this way!"

"How could you possibly say that? How would you know?"

"I don't. It's creator, Bronduk does."

"Your god knows no more than you do about this power. It was he who was created by the Roil. Not the other way around." Vancen growled.

"Now who's being presumptuous?" Hybald charged with his blade, swinging for Vancen's throat.

The Titan dodged and slammed a fistful of Megyno energy into Hybald's chin. A faint sphere of protective light shimmered around the Knight's Roilplate armor. But the barrier shattered as Vancen's fist passed through to uppercut Hybald.

Hybald caught himself in the air by re-summoning his wings.

Keeping himself airborne and mobile, Hybald maneuvered around Vancen as they fought, evading the Titan's excessive use of Megyno energy.

Vancen swung his arms around wildly, unleashing powerful waves of energy that could vaporize a normal man in seconds with each movement.

The Titan stumbled as an arrow stuck in his throat. He pulled the arrow out and turned to face the Marksman, armed with the powerful Lygaroz bow. With him was the Thief, wielding the Kynarath dagger.

Vancen growled, "You're bold to show your face to me again, Thief! You betrayed me."

"What you did to me and so many others is unforgivable, Vancen." The Thief growled, "Loyalty's irrelevant now. I will kill you."

Vancen raised his arm, about to unleash another barrage of energy, but his limb was wrapped up by the bone links of the Warlock's Demonspine Whip.

The Warrior, Druid, Architect, Scholar, Hunter and Shaman joined them in surrounding the Titan.

Vancen slashed his arm through the air, dragging an aura of violet energy with him. Reality tore open, cracking at the edges as a door to the Roil was opened. More Megyno energy flooded into the air. The water beneath them and the surrounding vessel started to crystallize inch by inch.

A woman dressed in white with flesh made of energy like Vancen shot out of the gateway, grabbing Hybald by the throat. He was plunged into the ocean, his access to air cut off.

They sank deeper and deeper until Hybald could channel his wells into his Brondumancy. Hybald grabbed the woman's arm and forcefully dampened her strength to equal his own. Now able to combat her, Hybald threw the woman off him and cast a Lawfler. Torrents of force shot from his hands, propelling him to the surface.

He summoned his wings and took in a lungful of air as he rose into the sky.

His blade, Shadowbane, shot out from under the water, back into his grasp.

The woman leapt out of the water, landing next to Vancen, who had closed his portal.

"Well...this certainly went off the rails." Vancen muttered.

"Give up your powers." Hybald demanded, "Both of you."

"Or what? I can't be killed. Besides, humanity needs the Titans. If any sentient race wants to survive in this world, you will need us!" Vancen shouted, "You've no idea what you've done by suddenly becoming an enforcement for the Gods' will."

"Your ramblings won't get you anywhere. Champions!" Hybald called.

The Champions each took their God Stones from their weapons and held them in the sky.

"Maev! Stop them!" Vancen ordered the woman, but both stumbled over as arcs of light shot between the stones, connecting them in a ring.

"Rüspas o gib! Fähä ñob ngøknir bakwa kva zmrösh!" Hybald chanted in ancient Ansami.

Vancen roared, but was too weak to stand.

"Begone! Live trapped in the world between worlds for all time!" Hybald condemned them as another gate to the Roil opened behind them.

Vancen unleashed an aura of power that nearly knocked Hybald out of the sky, "Stop this, you fools! If you do this, the world as you know it will die! The gods are-"

The portal swallowed them, their disappearance cutting off the portal to the Abyss that allowed the Titanspawn to pass through.

The darkness in the sky faded, giving birth to a new age of order and prosperity. Or so Hybald thought.


	2. Chapter 1: A Day in the Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thousand years after the end of the Titan's War, life has somewhat returned to normal as the Champions and their deeds have become legend, rather than history.
> 
> Two residents of the Atrellian Empire that rose up in place of Ansam find themselves in equally unfortunate situations.

The year was 1054, after the collapse of the ancient Ansami Empire and the end of Titan's War.

The autumn equinox had just passed in Ivanderton, a port town in the Empire of Atrell's southern province of Duvri. The peasant class, dubbed the Pious, were preparing for harvests and enjoying the beautiful weather before the cold of winter set in.

The craftsmen of the Trwaj caste rushed around, attempting to finish their labors for the season's end, while Nobles shopped for the supplies they'd need for the harvest festivities.

Edmund Isley had his eye on one young black haired noblewoman in particular with a fat looking coin pouch on her hip. Though, the fact that her noble parents didn't bother to spend a Nin on her escort caused a seed of doubt to be planted in Edmund's mind.

But he needed the money. A lot more than her. Many people needed it more than her.

His legs waited in anticipation, pressing against the cobblestone road preemptively as if coaxing him to go through with the robbery. He threw up the hood of his cloak and hid back behind his corner into an alleyway as the noblewoman drew near.

_Three. Two. One._

Edmund spun around, knocking into the noblewoman. The force of the impact pushed each of them to the ground. Both of them grunted in pain, but Edmund immediately stood and took up an apologetic tone.

"I am so sorry, miss. Please forgive my insolence," he said as he helped her stand up, "I had no idea where I was going."

"No need." the noblewoman took his hand and stood, dusting off her frilly bright blue dress, "Now be on your way."

Edmund bowed his head before walking off. He grinned to himself, clutching the coin purse under his cloak. Hiding in another alleyway, Edmund lowered his hood and extracted the leather pouch.

Eagerly, he opened the pouch. It was full of pure gold Knurrins. Not a silver Knuk or bronze Nin in sight. The only thing better would be a bag full of God Shards.

"Gods, it's like they don't even care about their coin purses." Edmund chuckled. But then again, they probably didn't.

While this would've made any thief happy for months, Edmund frowned and furrowed his brow at the sight. Yes, nobles were rich, but who would be so stupid as to load their young daughter full of gold and send her walking down Ironwood Street?

Edmund took a closer look at the purse itself.

"Titans," he hissed, his eyes widening with terror.

The bag belonged to and bore the crest of the Shawe Family. Edmund needed to find a place to discard the pouch and some trustworthy people to split the gold between. But that was an unlikely, if not impossible occurrence with the company he kept.

He could pawn it off to an Auriok if there were any around. Though, he'd have to watch them eat most of his hard earned coin.

One might ask why exactly so many solutions to dumping the coin were on Edmund's mind. The answer was easy: If he didn't want his limbs quartered by a Shawe Enforcer or be struck by the lightning of a Shawe Sparker, he'd have to get rid of any evidence of his involvement with the missing gold.

Of all the Nobles in Ivanderton, the Shawes were the worst. They treated their rats with more care than they did the Pious. Their patriarch, Lord Shawe was a beast of a man. As a half Nordanian, the Snakes, Edmund's caste of criminals and outcasts, whispered he was just as ruthless and bestial as the savages he descended from.

Edmund tugged on the leather straps of the pouch and hid it within the folds of his cloak. He left the alley for his homestead, but was cut off not a moment after he left the darkness. It slipped his mind to put up his hood.

"Hey, you! Isley!"

Edmund turned to the source of the voice. A male guard with a pudgy face and contrasting lanky body stood next to the noblewoman he had robbed.

Gerard.

Edmund ran.

"Stop, thief!" Gerard called out.

The noblewoman told Gerard. Of course she told him. Everyone told Gerard! Never had Edmund ever been chased for a crime and that didn't start with Gerard's involvement.

Edmund silently wished that for once in his life, a different guard started patrolling Ironwood Street. He didn't have a trick or lie this time. He'd used them all.

Being caught upwards of twenty times may seem indicative of being a poor thief, which he was quite literally a very impoverished thief, but considering the amount of times Edmund had actually robbed people, the number seemed rather impressive.

Gerard was gaining on him. Much faster than before. The old guard was learning, Edmund thought fondly before realizing how terrible that was for him.

But this was Ironwood Street, Edmund's home turf.

He drew a Knurrin out from the pouch, rubbing the edge of the square shaped coin as he gave his plan a second thought. Ultimately, he went through with it. Edmund launched the gold piece worth a whole week of meals into the air, letting it clink on the road.

Just as Gerard was passing through, beggars from every direction swarmed him in search of the coin.

Edmund used the bought time to climb the building of a general store. He gripped the edge of the clay tiled roof and pulled himself up as Gerard pulled himself through the crowd of beggars.

"Stop him!" He heard Gerard yell.

Edmund glanced down as he ran across the rooftops to a garrison building where two guards aimed crossbows at him. He slipped trying to dodge a crossbow bolt.

The bolt missed him, but he found himself hanging off the edge of a two story building with a cascade of ceramic tiles. As the guards crowded below him, Edmund let go, allowing Gerard and his accomplices to break his fall.

Edmund clambered to his feet and ran over to a hitching post near the garrison building.

He'd be put to death for stealing from a Noble. Stealing a horse couldn't make it much worse.

Edmund unhitched the reins of a brown-haired horse, hopped in the saddle and spurred the animal into a gallop.

He nearly trampled over pedestrians, demolished market stands and rammed into carriages as Edmund desperately tried to control the horse. He was so focused on manning the reins, he looked up just in time to see the two Enforcers who had appeared before him.

They were a man and a woman, faces concealed by the off-white hoods of their cloaks and white clay masks with no perceivable openings aside from slits for sight.

The horse suddenly reared, throwing Edmund off its back. He collapsed on the road in a heap.

A small aura of faint blue light flowed around the male Enforcer as he beckoned the horse to him.

A Lawfler. Edmund knew little of the flerical arts aside from his own meager abilities, but he knew enough about Enforcers. It was some form of mind control. Luckily, it was much harder to use on humans.

Edmund scrambled to his feet before their flers could touch him. But he found himself on the ground a second later. He struggled to look up as the weight of a thousand anvils seemed to crush him. The female Enforcer walked over, hand extended with a similar aura around it.

"Cease resistance now, criminal, and you will get the opportunity to represent yourself in a court of law." The Enforcer commanded.

_______________________________________________

We've apprehended the thief, Miss Shawe." the Enforcer said, handing Lara Shawe back her pouch of coins, "Do you need anything else?"

The thief was struggling against the grip of the female Enforcer's tight lock around his arms and head. He had a lanky, flexible stature and skin light enough to be from the Northern provinces. His tangled, unruly black hair shielded his eyes.

Lara felt a twinge of guilt for getting the boy arrested, as he would be put to death. But the Snakes did not deserve empathy. He was born into the Pious caste and would have to learn to accept that.

"Well first off, you can leave the thief with the authorities. I don't want him and nor does my father," Lara sighed.

"Of course, milady." The Enforcer signaled to his female partner who had the thief in a tight lock to take him away.

"And I would appreciate a carriage ride back to Keep Shawe. These cobblestones cause my feet to ache ever so much."

"I will have that arranged immediately, milady." the Enforcer bowed and walked away.

A few minutes later, a black wooden carriage pulled up to her. The coachman hopped out of his seat and opened the door as Lara climbed in pulling up her long skirt.

Once the door closed behind her and she sat on one of the red cushioned seats, she sunk down into an unladylike slouch.

What a waste of a trip. Tonight was the most important night of her life and she chose to waste the afternoon on this useless endeavor?

Lara pulled a small circular wafer from the customary hidden pocket in the neckline of her dress. A God Shard. The Church often toted these as pieces of Bronduk himself. They allowed flerfingers to cast their magnificent powers when eaten.

She'd eaten many over the course of her life. But she never manifested a fler. Still...she felt that something was in there.

 _What's the point?_ She asked herself, _You already have a chance at the ball for a successful career. A career you don't need flers for._

Ivanderton's Harvest Ball would be a celebration that all the Nobles within the city's sphere of influence would be attending. That included the Kairolists priests from the province's capital.

If she played her cards right-and she damn might kill herself if she didn't, after all her practice-she would gain a valuable contact within the Atrellian Flerical Academy's flerical physics department. And with Bronduk's blessing, full acceptance into the school.

Even though science was normally considered a man's trade, there were no laws barring women from the field unlike being a soldier or how men were prohibited from being international diplomats. Aside from the Emperor, of course.

Though the idea of the cost such a career would demand made a sinking hole appear within her. She'd have to join the Kairolist class and as a scientist, she'd leave behind any chance she had at having a family. Her mother often liked to remind her of that.

 _Nevermind that!_ Lara thought, _Focus!_

Suddenly the carriage stopped.

"Er, Miss Shawe? We're here, my lady." The coachmen said.

"Hm? Oh, yes! Thank you, sir." Lara hurried out of the carriage.

"It's no problem, my lady." The coachman smiled.

"Compensation for troubling you." Lara said, tossing him a Knurrin. The coachman caught the valuable coin desperately, eyes wide with shock. She fled into Shawe Keep before he could object.

She ascended the stone steps of the giant rectangular tower of stone and threw open one of the large wooden doors.

"Lady Lara?" The Shawe family butler, Simon, stood aghast near the doors.

The butler was a lanky man, about a head taller than Lara and well into his sixties. He had fading blue eyes and a head of slicked back grey hair with facial hair that was fashionable two decades ago. He wore a black Atrellian suit jacket, which had a high, popped up collar and long tails with a matching pair of pants and formal shoes.

"Lady Lara, where have you been?" Simon asked with an accusatory tone.

"Out, Simon. It doesn't concern you," Lara said.

"It does concern me, mistress, when you go out with a sack of Knurrins and come back filthy in a carriage you did not leave with. And did you go without an escort again? In addition to that, you're late."

"What?" Lara looked at Simon, offended, "I'm not late."

"Did you remember to wind your pocket watch today, mistress? You have three hours before the ball."

Lara blinked, "Shit."

Simon yelled something about profanity being unladylike, but he was cut off.

"Get a maidservant to draw a bath and ask mother what our theme is. Send for a new makeup palette within the next hour and for my father!" Lara exclaimed, "We have no time to lose!"

She lifted her skirt and dashed up to her room in the keep via the north tower. She was out of breath when she reached the top.

Everything had to be perfect this evening if she had any hope of being accepted into the Academy over the flerfingers. And it was already missing that mark.

Her room was circular, held up by a multitude of wooden beams. A dresser with a few mirrors and tools for applying makeup sat across from the large bed set against the wall. She wasn't one for excessive decorum.

The part of her room that really saw any activity was her desk, which was littered in unfinished books, scraps of parchment with notes and diagrams of flerical physics.

Lara glanced next to the dresser at the large full body mirror. That thief left her a mess.

Her jet black hair was starting to return to its naturally somewhat curly state. As a noblewoman, you either had straight hair or very finely curled locks. The sort of in between Lara had was considered equivalent to having a tangled nest atop your head.

Her light tan skin was dirtied thanks to the thief pushing her over.

Lara tried her best to undo the multiple fastening and laces on her dress, but was forced to wait until the maidservant came to her room.

Once Lara had shed the dress, a white underdress and her corset, the maidservant started to prepare a bath in the wooden basin in her room

Lara once again had her eyes glued to the mirror. She had never really been too concerned with her own body, but the perfectionist in her was worried any flaw or blemish could cost her her chance. Muscle was starting to show in her abdomen. She should have laid off her swordplay for a while.

She also noted that her arms were too slim. Her entire figure in general was too slim. She looked like a laborer.

Frankly, Lara wasn't very keen on the act of flaunting one's wealth through body weight, but she had to appeal to the Kairolists in as many ways as possible. They might assume she spent more time working than studying. Looking proper and classier than others with the same ambition was also a must. She would pray for Bronduk's forgiveness of her ruthlessness later.

Lara sighed in dismay.

"Your bath is ready, mistress." her maidservant said.

Lara shed the rest of her undergarments and stepped into the tub, allowing the maidservant to scrub most of the dirt off her and wash her hair.

A few minutes of drying later, she winced as two maidservants tugged on the lace to a more suffocating corset. Due to her lack of time, several servants were also polishing her nails, straightening her hair with an iron and applying makeup to her eyes at the same time.

She was hidden behind a wooden folding screen as her father, Lord Shawe spoke to her.

"What do you think, dear? Green or black?" He muttered, yet still booming with his voice at the same time.

"What's mother wearing?" Lara peeked over the panels at her father.

Lord Shawe was an incredibly large, but deviously smart man. Were he not always dressed in his fine clothes, it would be easy to mistake him for a Nordanian brute. Which he technically was. His large stature, long blonde hair and blue eyes came from his Nordanian mother. He was actually an illegitimate child, since his mother was a maid, but he was the only surviving son of the previous Lord Shawe.

Lara herself was a head taller than most Noble girls and even some men.

From the studies of foreign lands, Lara knew she would be of normal size had she not eaten as much as a normal human. Needing far less sustenance, Nordanians who ate like Atrellians became giants. No one else near Ivanderton was a purebred Atrellian, so with any luck, her Nordanian heritage wouldn't cause someone else to be favored.

"Ingrid is wearing green." Lord Shawe said.

"Black then."

Lord Shawe snorted, "You know she'll be furious."

"I-" Lara groaned again as her gut was restricted even further, "If mother is wearing green, everyone else is wearing green. I have to stand out. Besides, black goes with everything."

"I pray to Bronduk you're right." Lord Shawe chuckled, "I'm not looking forward to amending my alliances while listening to her complain about you."

"By the way, did you manage to get me a companion for tonight?"

"Oh, yes. Though before you say anything, no, I'm not asking you to court this one. I just want an alliance with his family. His name is Percival Shevington," Lord Shawe said, "A righteous young man around your age. Twenty, I think."

"Righteous?" Lara asked.

"He's a promising Enforcer. Many think he'll lead the Corps someday. Doing Bronduk's work, he is."

"It seems all I've been provided for companions so far are Enforcers, father," Lara mentioned, her voice implying her father had an ulterior motive.

"Well, Enforcers are the best men," Lord Shawe said a little too defensively.

"You only say that because you were one," Lara raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, alright. I'll see about some Sparkers or a Crusader. But no Seekers, understand? That school is full of arrogant pricks, no matter how much they talk of humility." Lord Shawe put his foot down.

"Very well," Lara said, "Could you hand me the black dress?"

A few minutes later, Lara stepped out from behind the folding screen. The dress had a low neckline and fit snugly around her chest and hips. There were barely any frills and the long skirt was cut down the right side to allow the legs more movement.

The dress was sleeveless, allowing her to forsake an underdress, but a pair of thin gloves reached up to her elbows.

Her eyes had been coated in metallic silver eye shadow and her lips were painted a deep crimson.

The multitude of necklaces, bracelets and rings on her body were made of silver to go with the overall cool tone of colors on her and held emeralds so as to not clash too heavily with her mother's dress. She'd opted to go with heeled shoes rather than fabric sollars.

"How do I look?" Lara asked her father.

"Why, you look more stunning than the Saint-Minister herself." Lord Shawe smiled widely.

"Careful what you say father," Lara grinned, "Wouldn't want to get arrested for blasphemy, now would you?"

"Yes, but I just couldn't help myself. You look as beautiful as you were on the day I first held you in my arms." Lord Shawe stood and hugged his daughter in an almost crushing embrace, "I know you'll have no issue with those Kairolists. Remember. You're a Shawe. You're my daughter. No one can stand in your way save the Emperor and Bronduk himself."

"Then let's not tempt Him, eh?"


	3. Chapter 2: Enter the Arcane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund finds a way to break out of prison. Meanwhile, Lara discovers a terrible figment of her past has come back to haunt her at the Harvest Ball.

"C'mon!" Edmund called at Gerard from behind a set of iron bars, "She was a noble woman, Gerry! She didn't need it!"

"Precisely because it was a member of the Noble class, I now have to do another mountain of paperwork to prevent Lord Shawe from transferring you out of the Crownsguard's hands and into his." Gerard grumbled.

Edmund scoffed, "Just let him take me. It's not like I couldn't escape."

"He will nail you to the walls to bind you." Gerard said.

Edmund was silent after that. For about nine seconds.

"So...what kind of execution do you have planned for me this time? Something a tad more creative than hanging, perhaps?" Edmund asked.

"Just shut up and let me work."

Edmund waited as Gerard turned his back to him. He quietly slid to the left side of the garrison building's cell. Slowly, he shook a stone brick free and glanced in the dark hole.

"Shit." His set of lock picks had been stolen. Edmund returned the brick and stood, searching the top ledge of the riveted iron frame that held the bars with his fingers. The spare key was also missing.

Soon enough, Gerard left for the day. A few other shifts went by, but Edmund was left helpless. He had checked every one of his contingencies. Even the lock pick under the latrine bucket.

When night rolled around, he resorted to trying to wear the lock with sheer force when no one was looking.

"Son of a..." Edmund clutched his hand after bruising it on the metal lock.

"Hey...cut that out." an uninterested voice echoed from beyond the bars.

There was one guard still left in the garrison building. Edmund hadn't been paying attention to his shift change, but the soldier must've only had an hour or two left on his shift.

He didn't want to use his last resort, but he was being watched. And if that front door was locked for the night, he could kiss his chance at freedom goodbye.

Edmund took a cautionary breath before reaching into his boot. From a small hidden pouch sewn into the inside, he drew a piece of a small beige wafer.

A God Shard. Well, a fraction of one.

The funny thing about these inconspicuous little pieces of stale bread is that they had a special substance in them that all the noble houses wanted to get their hands on.

Edmund didn't really know what that substance was, but he knew enough to know what would happen if he ate one.

Edmund popped the wafer in his mouth. Bland. Not necessarily bad, but the lack of freshness was enough to make them unappetizing. But then again, no one ate a God Shard to satiate hunger.

Edmund took another breath of hesitation and glanced at the guard. He was surely tired. Easy to trick.

The God Shard introduced a new kind of energy into his body: The Five Wells.

He felt two of them in his veins. Kogniirok and Sylvanor.

Edmund combined powers from his wells, casting a Truthfler. He slipped his hands through the bars and concentrated on the lock that kept him in the cell.

Using water in the air, the Truthfler chilled it, frosting over the metal. Edmund kept the freezing going as quiet as he could manage as to not alert the guard. Though the fler took a continuous drain on the power he had available.

It wasn't long before Edmund ran out of power. He had no choice but to check if the metal was brittle enough. He reached his hand through the bars and yanked on the lock. Nothing.

Edmund pulled again. This time, the lock broke, it's miscellaneous chips and pieces clattering to the ground.

The guard glanced up, "Hey, what was that?"

"Nothing." Edmund said.

"Nothing, my ass." the guard stood and walked over to the cell. Once he was within Edmund's reach, he grabbed the guard's collar through the bars and slammed him into the cell door before swinging it open and crushing the guard between the door and the wall with a hearty slam.

The guard was out. Edmund stole the keys to the building, a meager coin purse and dagger off of him before he sprinted out the door, a dumb grin plastered to his face.

As he exited onto the street, a bright light seared his eyes.

It was the lantern of an Enforcement patrol unit.

That was all he could gather before a blast of force stole Edmund's consciousness away.

____________________________________________

Lara seated herself at one of the many round tables as guests were flowing into the keep ballroom. The long rectangular table was for her father and mother to make deals with other nobility.

One of her friends, Aelisia Fouche, was a member of House Fouche from the north of the Empire's territory on the Suden continent. They would be making a deal for the rights to engage in diplomacy with the natives of the Muspeil, a strange moving island in the sea that was home to a folk who called themselves Elves. The Northern families put a big emphasis on promptness as a part of good etiquette.

Which is why Aelisia sat with Lara before even the closest located houses arrived. She was dressed in a dark blue dress with white layers and bright red accents. Her brown hair was tied tightly behind her head, falling loose into straightened strands.

She was accompanied by a beau or male guardian that was regular practice of the more patriarchal Noble Houses in the north. He was dressed in a matching navy and white doublet and a navy broad-brimmed hat with a red feather that stuck out from a folded edge at the top.

This man was different from last time. And the time before that. And the other one before that. And the more or less twenty men Lara had seen with Aelisia in the past since she came of age. Lara had only been with six since that time.

Aelisia was going on about how her escort was a Preserver. Lara didn't blame her, considering that Preservers could cast Faithflers and were often revered among Flerfingers. They were rare and their power to heal was highly valued.

Aelisia was suddenly cut off as Lynde, Lara's little sister, approached the table.

Lara glanced up with a start as Lynde snorted. Lynde was barely twelve, but she held herself like she was the Empress. Lara's sister had decided to conform with the family theme of green a tad more than Lara had, with what was essentially a miniscule version of their mother's dress. Her blonde hair was done up just like their mother's as well.

"Yes, Lynde?" Lara tried to regard her amicably.

"Black? Really?" Lynde crossed her arms, "It's like you're not even trying."

Lara's mouth became a stressed, thin line.

"Mother says she wants to see you," Lynde said before walking away.

Lara sighed. Her sister completely lacked the tact needed to maneuver oneself in Noble court. But then again, one didn't need skill when they were a powerful Crusader at only age twelve.

Lara stood from her chair, "I'll be back soon, Aelisia."

She walked around the scattering of circular tables that were beginning to fill up with Nobles. She greeted the members of a few friendly houses as she approached the long rectangular table at the front of the ball room where her parents sat.

"Lara, good." Her mother stood from her seat and took her to the corner of the room.

Lara's mother was a younger woman, having married Lord Shawe at sixteen. But her dark tan face was still creased with wrinkles like an older woman. They were from her stern, unmoving face and almost constant unsatisfied expression.

Her mother's brown hair had been prepped and dressed, her cold blue eyes surrounded by eye shadow. Her painted lips were stretched into a frown and her crossed arms scrunched the many overly elaborate folds, layers, lace and frills of her emerald green and white dress.

"What did you need, mother?" Lara asked.

Ingrid Shawe sighed, "Lara, dearest, are you sure you want to go to that school?"

Lara rolled her eyes, "Mother, I told you, I'm going to that school whether you like it or not a million times."

Ingrid continued, attempting a seemingly last-ditch effort to discourage her, "Being a woman in science is so...needlessly difficult. There's nothing wrong with being a wife and mother."

"I'm going, mother." Lara said. Ironically, listening to her mother talk about being a typical noblewoman, helped erase Lara's doubts in her path.

Ingrid looked away from her, "I-fine. Good luck."

"Is that all you wanted to say?" Lara raised an eyebrow.

"No. I actually called you over because...well, because my brother might be coming." She said softly.

Lara blinked in disbelief. She unconsciously wrapped her arms tightly around herself as her lungs choked up and her breaths became labored. Her corset was suddenly tighter. So tight she might vomit.

"Wh-what?" Lara gasped, "Why? I thought he was sent to Emreth."

"He's returned from the front..."

"Why haven't you stopped him?" Lara asked.

"He's taken up some position among the Kairolists. We can't bar his entry." Ingrid said, "Just...stay cautious. Keep your companion close and come to us in an emergency. We can't afford to disrupt this ball."

Lara's heart seized up in her chest, skipping every other beat. Why today of all days? Why would she have to face this demon here?

Godric Spetyll was her mother's brother. When Lara was only nine years old, he violated her. No one knew and no one would for years. All the meanwhile he brought different men to her so that they could, 'have the pleasure of bedding a child'. Finally, someone must've found out, since Lord Spetyll was quickly called to the far north.

 _Compose yourself! That was almost ten years ago. Don't stay stuck in the past. Remember your future!_ Lara shook the awful memories away. It was just...another folly of noble society. Do not worry about what cannot be changed. That's what the prophets said.

But that was a fool's errand. Those fears would never leave her.

"If you want, we'll let you skip the ball." Her mother offered.

"I'm fine." Lara assured her, hesitating to meet her mother in the eye, "I should probably find my companion, though. Just to be safe."

Ingrid nodded, "Alright. We'll be here."

Lara made her way back to the table, suddenly more conscious about everything surrounding her. The murmured conversations from other tables, the subtle gestures each person made.

Questions raced through her mind faster than she could think them through.

_Is he here yet? Can he see me? Does he know I'm here?_

She felt as though he could feel him lurking behind every corner.

She then glanced at her table. A new face had taken a seat there. Presumably, her companion.

Despite her distress, she couldn't help but notice that he was...stunning.

The man had a lean and fit build, standing at nearly Lara's height. His skin was heavily tanned, reminiscent of the more tropical climate of Atrellian homeland while his hair was a bright blonde.

His green eyes flicked to her as he made his way over, making her chest flutter slightly. His face was sharp and chiseled like it was made of stone and he carried himself with an air of alluring assurance.

He wore a black suit jacket with a high collar that reached just below his eye level and flowed out at the bottom into a cloak-like sheet of fabric instead of just tails. He wore similar black pants and shoes. His shirt was full of frills and a mix of silvery white and dark green colors while his black hat's folded brim held an emerald feather.

"Are you by chance Lady Lara Shawe?" the man asked in a thick accent that was considered the correct way to speak Atrellian.

Lara half-mindedly nodded.

The man took her delicate right hand in his, "I am Percival Shevington. A pleasure to finally meet you." The man planted a small kiss over her glove before taking a seat next to her.

"I see you also went for the stylish version of tonight's theme, Lord Shevington," Lara said, offering a half smile. She looked his suit up and down as she took her seat.

"Well, black goes with everything." Shevington shrugged, "And please, call me Percival."

"Very well, if you call me Lara." she nodded.

Aelisia blinked before grabbing Lara and hissing, "This is your beau? He's gorgeous!"

"Aelisia! Don't be rude!" Lara hissed. She turned back to the man next to her, "Percival, I hear you're an Enforcer."

"That's right," Percival nodded, "I'm known to be quite good with Lawflers."

"How good exactly?" Lara asked.

Percival adjusted his seating and stared into her eyes. "What color are your favorite undergarments?"

"White." Lara answered instantaneously without thinking. She blinked and grinned, "My, you are good."

"Had much experience with Enforcers?" Percival chuckled, "Or are you one yourself?"

"No, no. I'm not a flerfinger," Lara admitted, "But I know how to tell if someone's pacifying my emotions."

"Well I think that on its own is quite impressive, Miss Lara." Percival smiled.

Lara eventually lost track of time talking with Lord Shevington. The meals went by like nothing and before she knew it, they were on the dance floor.

Lara was actually...enjoying herself. Even though her feet ached from the strain of dancing in heels, Percival's company made up for it. His particular brand of forwardness was very appealing to her sensibilities.

He was quite the conversationalist as well.

As they danced, Lara felt safe. It was as though it were just the two of them and the orchestra. No one could get to her.

But it wasn't long before Lara had to be passed off to another man during the waltz.

As Percival let go of her, he gave her a solemn yet hopeful look. Lara returned with a smile as she was received into the arms of the next man.

"Hello, niece."

Lara's heart seized in her chest.

"Long time, no see." The growling, predatory voice of Lara's uncle invaded her ears.

Lara tried to break from the tall, grizzled man's grip, but he held her to him.

"Shit." Lara growled, "Get away from me."

"Don't be so hasty, my dearest niece. I've returned a changed man. I am a holy man now. A man of justice." A wicked smile spread across Lord Spetyll's face, "That being said, you still owe me for sending me to that hellscape of a battlefield."

Spetyll focused intently on her. She felt her thoughts numb as her vision blurred.

"What are you...what..." Lara tried to say.

"Come with me."

Lara's body obeyed his commands and her muscles didn't give it a second thought as he dragged her into a darkened hallway, away from the ball.

Her mind screamed commands to her bones, but they simply followed Spetyll.

Lara was panicking. What was happening? She had experienced Lawflers before, but the target had to already respect the user to obey them. This wasn't a Lawfler. Something else was affecting her mind. Something far more powerful.

In the moonlight shining through the lattice windows of the keep, Lord Spetyll drew a curved dagger from the inside of his burgundy suit coat.

"I'm going to pay you back for what you did," he growled, "When I was sent to the front lines, the Emryds captured me. They tortured me for months. They cut off the thumb on my left hand."

Spetyll held up his left hand, missing the thumb.

"But I learned something from them." Spetyll clenched his fist, "There's more to flers than the Empire tells us about."

Lara blinked, feeling autonomy return to her. Once she gained control of her actions again, she attempted to run from him, but she was easily caught.

Spetyll pressed the dagger to her throat as he wrapped his arm around Lara's waist.

The sensation was like swimming through a lake of manure. Lara's hand slipped into the sewn-in of her dress and grabbed the one God Shard she had.

Spetyll then shoved her to the ground on her stomach, the shard freeing itself from her grip.

"I'm going to enjoy you one last time before I send you to Tialeis for eternity," Spetyll growled as he wrenched her arm behind her back and started to carve through the back of her dress.

Not again. Not this again.

Lara's eyes were clouded with tears as she desperately reached for the Shard. She managed to pull it within her reach and quickly shoved it into her mouth.

 _Please Bronduk,_ she prayed. If she was a Flerfinger, now was the time for it to come to her.

But nothing came. Spetyll tore the black dress off her and started to cut into her corset.

With no other choice, she slammed her elbow into Spetyll's nose. Pain blossomed in her other arm as she pulled on it to reach him.

"Fuck!" Spetyll cried, backing off from her.

Lara clambored to her feet, covering herself and panting like a dog.

"You little bitch!" Spetyll growled.

Lara's mind raced about what to do. She couldn't disrupt the ball. That would be a death sentence for her and her family. If she could find someone to tell father...

Spetyll staggered to his feet, crimson dripping from his scrunched nose and grabbed his knife. He slammed her against the stone wall, pressing the knife into her neck and the tip drawing blood from her flesh.

Lara struggled with all her might, but with each act of rebellion, Spetyll came ever closer to piercing her throat. She was trapped. There was nowhere for her to go.

Helplessness. She hated that feeling. Hated it more than anything. More than Spetyll himself. But it seemed as though Bronduk was hellbent on ensuring she knew how helpless she was.

And for that she hated him.

Spetyll suddenly glanced down and yelped. His long, cape-like burgundy coat had burst into flame.

As Spetyll released her to try and put out the fire, Lara noticed something within her. A well of energy she didn't have before.

Was that...a fler? She'd never heard of anything that sparked flames, but the power within her was undeniably arcane.

It was when she looked at her hands she could confirm it. Her black gloves were smoldering with embers. It was her.

She put all the focus she could manage into her intent, like the Flerfingers often described. Her right hand glowed bright orange with heat.

She looked to Spetyll. He had just put out the flames on his jacket.

She closed the distance between them.

"Damn you girl. Your family will owe-" Spetyll was cut off by his own screams as Lara grabbed his face with her glowing hand. Steam hissed from between their skin, scarring Spetyll's flesh.

"What's all this ruckus!"

Lara dropped Spetyll to look at Percival, who was a few yards away.

"Percival," Lara's eyes went wide with humiliation and fear, "Please hold him. He tried to-"

"Enforcer!" Spetyll cut her off, scrambling backwards, his voice ragged from the burns, "This woman used dark flers to try and kill me! Look at the light emanating from her! That is not a fler I've seen before."

"Dark flers?" Lara roared, "Percival, he was going to rape me and kill me!"

Percival's eyes darted between Lara and Spetyll. Was he...conflicted? What conflict was there here?

Percival's gaze hardened when it landed on Lara.

No. He wouldn't.

An overwhelming force slammed onto Lara from above, forcing her to the ground. Percival's eyes glowed with golden light.

"Lara Shawe. You are under arrest for the practice of forbidden flers and blasphemy against Bronduk."


	4. Chapter 3: Charon's Caravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund and Lara find themselves on a prisoner transport ship headed for Sudebron, the place criminals go to either die or get sent off to the war fronts.

Edmund blinked himself awake, his vision blurry and head pounding.

He sat up from the wooden floor beneath him. All he could see was what a dim torch illuminated beyond a row of iron bars.

This place smelled of death.

He was in another prison cell, no longer in a garrison building. There were several other identical cells surrounding him.

"What in the Roil..." Edmund muttered as he noticed he was wearing nothing but rags in place of his old clothes. Admittedly, they weren't much better, but at least they were warm.

There was one other person in the cell with him. He was a middle aged man with scraggly hair and seemed as though he hadn't bathed all his life. Luckily, he was asleep.

Edmund moved to the bars and glanced as far as he could down a hallway which ran between two lines of cells.

He glanced into the cell across from his. A dark haired woman sat in the cell, her legs pulled into her chest. Her movement indicated she was awake.

"Psst." Edmund hissed to get her attention.

She glanced up for only a moment before breaking eye contact.

"Hey, where are we?" He asked.

The woman looked at him again. She hesitated before answering, "Prisoner transport ship."

"At sea, huh." Edmund paused, "Why do you look familiar?"

The woman inhaled a small gasp before hissing, "You're the one who stole from me!"

"I...what? Wait, are you that noblewoman?"

The woman nodded. Edmund's eyes shot wide. Nobles never got arrested. Never. A nobleman could grab a woman of the Pious class and rape her on his balcolny and could still get off scot-free.

"How'd you end up here?" Edmund whispered.

"What's it to you?" She rebuked with disdain.

Edmund sighed, "Nothing, I suppose. But by Bronduk, I've never seen a noblewoman get arrested."

Edmund leaned against the right wall of his cell. If he was on a prisoner transport, he'd have to devise an escape plan, preferably before they landed. They'd be headed for the nearest temple for trials, then start the executions.

"How long have we been here?" Edmund asked the woman.

"A day or two, I think." the woman muttered.

Two days at most. That would give them about half a week of travel before they landed at the nearest temple, Sudebron. There, they would be put on trial. Four days wasn't much, but it was something.

"It was flers." the woman said.

Edmund perked up.

"I was arrested because I used a fler I wasn't supposed to." She didn't make eye contact with him.

Edmund furrowed his brow, "I don't think there are any outlawed flers."

"There's more than the ones they teach us." she muttered, "I used my bare hands to burn someone."

"So you're a Flerfinger?" Edmund asked.

"Not the right kind apparently."

"If we can get our hands on some shards...that'll go smoother." Edmund said to himself, "Hey, noblewoman. You wanna escape?"

"Escape?" the woman blinked, bewildered, "And it's Lara, not 'noblewoman.'"

"Well, Lara, I don't really see many alternatives here." Edmund hissed.

"You can try your best to escape. I'm going to go through with my trial and when they see I was acting in self defense, everything will go back to normal." Lara said, "I'm not giving them an excuse to brand me a criminal.

Edmund couldn't help but scoff.

"What?" Lara took on a defensive tone.

"You think we're gonna get fair trials." Edmund grinned morbidly.

"Of course we're getting fair trials. This isn't Emreth."

"Don't you get it?" Edmund asked, "We're on a prisoner transport. That means Enforcement deemed us bad enough to send to a temple trial. We're not part of the caste anymore. We're Snakes."

"Maybe you, but not me. You seem like you've been arrested more than once. You're the criminal here." Lara said, "This is all a big mistake. Probably a scheme of that bastard Spetyll."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure." Edmund grinned, "I've seen people be accused of the same crime as you. In the eyes of the Kairolists, you're worse than me. You're a heretic."

"You lie." Lara gritted her teeth.

"Maybe." Edmund shrugged, "But what if I'm right? You wanna take that chance? If we're lucky, we'll be put to death. But word says the war on Emreth isn't sailing so smoothly. Who knows? We might be the next line facing a hail of Emryd arrows."

"You're just saying that to scare me." Lara growled.

"Fine. Have it your way. Go have your little trial. See if it helps." Edmund sat back, feigning apathy. This girl was having serious doubts about her whole world, looking for anything reliable to hold onto. It'd be easy to make her a loyal accomplice.

A long silence passed before, "What are you thinking? In terms of escape."

There it was.

"So you accept my offer?" Edmund perked up.

"I haven't accepted. I'll consider it." Lara said.

Edmund slouched against the wall, "Good."

_____________________________________________

During the days Lara was aboard the prisoner transport, many of the prisoners were allowed out of their cells for a short time, but only to do menial chores and tasks set by the Enforcers.

Lara was being forced to scrub the ship's deck. Not only was she, a girl of noble birth, being forced to do the labor of a Pious peasant, but she was having to do it while bearing the brunt of the cold winds and ocean spray that swept over the wooden deck.

But she kept her head down. No need to draw attention to herself.

The criminal from a few nights ago who had proposed escape-Edmund he said his name was- came up next to her, also scrubbing the deck.

"I know you were very noncommittal the other night, but I came up with a plan," he whispered, "Follow me if you wanna hear it."

Lara hesitated before tailing Edmund to an area behind a staircase when the Enforcers and guards weren't watching.

"We escape the day we land." Edmund said, "All the Enforcers patrol at night to prevent escapes, so most of them sleep in the morning. They keep a few on duty in the day, but facing four Enforcers and twenty guards as Flerfingers gives us far better odds than fighting off fifteen Enforcers."

"And how would we get off the island?"

"I made it a point to memorize maps of all the temple court isles, including Sudebron. There's a small port town on the East coast of the island where we can hide on board a merchant ship."

"But Enforcement can perform searches on Trwaj vessels." Lara said.

"Only if they aren't part of a union." Edmund raised his finger, "If we find a mercantile union vessel and bribe them, Enforcement can't touch us."

"No Trwaj in his right mind would take a bribe." Lara sighed, "They know the consequences of such if their union is found out."

"You'd be amazed how many mad men are among their caste, then." Edmund shrugged.

"Fine," Lara sighed, "But how are we going to fight the Enforcers without God Shards?"

"Leave that to me." Edmund said, "Just be ready."

With that, Edmund left Lara to her own devices and thoughts.

Part of her was ecstatic to get her hands on another God Shard. Though she had been arrested for it and almost been violated and killed in the process, casting that fler still felt incredible. Like nothing she'd ever experienced.

Once she knew it was happening, the pure energy radiating from her fingertips and the exhilaration of unleashing the power of gods made her crave another experience with it. She wanted it for so long and she finally had it. Ironic that her flers were revealed to her the night she would've cemented her fate as a scientist.

But now she was here. Perhaps that was Bronduk's way of punishing her for her lust for power. Her greed and ambition were unbecoming. But even though she knew it was evil, something about getting what she desperately wished for all her childhood felt...good.

What's more, her flers were unlike any she'd ever read about before. She wanted to know more about them.

"So you're a Flerfinger, eh?"

Lara's eyes shot up towards a dark skinned man who was leaning over the railing of the upper deck who wore a scrutinizing look on his face.

"And was that escape I heard?"

"Talk and I set you on fire." Lara growled.

The man descended the stairs Lara had been hiding behind. He was wearing the rags of a prisoner like her.

"Even if I did talk, it is not like I would get anything out of it." the man shrugged.

He was tall and lean with an extremely short layer of black hair on his head. He held himself upright and bore stoicism itself if it could be made into a face. He almost looked as though he came from the province of Janir.

"Gammond Hross, prisoner of war." the man introduced himself.

"Uh...Lara Shawe. Heretic." Lara said, hesitating on what to consider her crime.

"I heard what you two were discussing. Two point seven days seems a reasonable enough time to accomplish your little plan. I want in." Gammond said, "As an Emryd, they won't hesitate to execute me. I don't exactly plan on dying."

Lara took a shaky breath, on high guard around this stranger. "I understand, but I can't just add as many people as I want. Edmund should decide. He's the brains behind-"

"You seem to be just as vital to his escape attempt as he is." Gammond said, "What is he, your husband?"

"I...no! But say it's up to me. Why should I let you in?" Lara said.

"I'm a Flerisher. Ophiomancer." Gammond said.

"I'm sorry...I'm not familiar with that term." Lara said, "What does that mean?"

"That's right. Your people don't make Stims." Gammond muttered, "How well versed are you in flers? Knowledge-wise."

"Very. Studied it since I was small." answered Lara.

"Then you know that when you take power from two of the Wells of Power, you get fler. A flerish is the same thing. Except you combine three."

Lara raised an eyebrow. The wells of power had six combinations and they only ever came in pairs. Well, there were more now, if her burning hands were any indication.

"That's ridiculous. How can you combine three wells?" she asked.

Gammond snorted, "Well I cannot simply give away all my secrets. Just trust me. You'll want me on your side. I've nothing to lose."

"No, no. You're going to tell me exactly what a flerish is." Lara said in an openly hostile tone, in part to mask her simple curiosity. But she really was angry. For five years, she'd done nothing but study flers. And now the whole core of her knowledge was incomplete?

Gammond considered for a moment, "Only if you let a friend of mine join, as well."

Lara sighed a tad too loudly, "I can't guarantee anything."

"Fine." Gammond shrugged.

Lara glanced at the guards and Enforcers. They were busy beating on another prisoner.

"So what's this about combining three wells? And make it quick." Lara hissed.

Gammond grimaced, "You see, normally, you would combine two wells. For example, combine Commural and Kogniirok and you get a Law-"

"I know how a damned Lawfler works." Lara said, "What in the Roil is a Flerish?"

"When it comes to flerishes, the important thing is the value behind flers." Gammond explained.

"Value...?" Lara peered around the stairs. The Enforcers seemed too tired to pay attention and many of the guards were just sick of this whole trip.

"Commural is all about peace and order. Kogniirok cares about knowledge and manipulation. When combined in a philosophical sense, Lawflers are a representation of control and objective morality. A flerish comes about when I combine that with the self interest and individualism of Glorekja. From that, I can use an arcane power unique to me."

Lara shook her head. Glorekja? What? She'd never heard of that well. But asking about it would take more time than she was willing to spend, "Many Ukotani researchers have tried to mix three wells before. A feast of God Shards couldn't handle the output of three Wells."

"Flerishes require a different version of that power to fuel it. But being able to cast Flerishes allows me to use Lawflers, Leechflers and Shadowflers all at once. Which can be done with God Shards." Gammond said. Leechflers and Shadowflers? More unknown powers.

"Why should I believe you? Up until a few days ago, I thought there were only six flers and four wells." Lara muttered, "Now there's five wells, who knows how many flers and suddenly all the wells have 'philosophy'?"

"It's up to you whether or not you take my information at face value. But if you decide to trust me, you will only benefit from it." Gammond said.

Lara sighed, "I...I'll give you an answer soon."

_______________________________________

Lunch was the opportune time for Edmund to mingle among those more daring and resourceful than his accomplice. But being more competent came with dangers that didn't always lend well to an operation such as this.

One person in particular he had his eyes on was Kymine Luxer, a famous thief from the northern provinces. With his skill set, he'd have no trouble procuring God Shards for Edmund.

The issue was convincing him.

Edmund took his bowl of slop bitterly from the guard who was serving and sat at an old wooden table across from Kymine. He was a small, pudgy man, which contrasted the rumors of his dexterous fingers, with a receding head of black hair and beady blue eyes.

Kymine slowly shifted his gaze up to Edmund, mid-bite.

"Is there something I can help you with?" The man croaked.

"There is, in fact, Mr. Luxer."

"Am I supposed to know you?" Kymine asked.

Edmund shook his head, "No. But your name is rather infamous among the...lower rungs of Bronduk's Hierarchy. I have a favor to ask."

Kymine scoffed.

"Just...hear me out, okay? A friend of mine and I have an escape plan. We need God Shards. If you can get them for us, we'll let you in on the plan." Edmund explained.

"And escape to what? My shattered criminal empire that's crawling with Enforcers?" Kymine sighed and stood up, "Look kid, I'd rather not die a slow and painful death on the battlefield, so why don't you take that plan of yours to someone stupid enough to go through with it."

Taking his bowl of slop, Kymine left Edmund by himself at the table. The boy cursed under his breath.

Immersed in thoughts of his path forward from here, Edmund finished his bland, lukewarm meal just as someone passed by, patting his shoulder for an instant. Edmund whirled around, but the perpetrator had vanished into a small crowd.

He then felt something slide down his chest. Whoever touched him had slipped something into the collar of his rags. _There are a lot of people around. Either this one's bold or just stupid,_ Edmund thought.

It was a note. Edmund grabbed the small piece of folded parchment that had been passed to him and opened it under the table.

At first, he didn't know what to think. Just before him was a whole God Shard, two inches in diameter and ten times as big as the crumbs he'd been able to feed off before.

The parchment had writing on it, though Edmund was never taught to read. There was no way for him to decipher the message. Unless...

Edmund stood up and sat back down at another table where Lara was eating alone. In a hushed tone he asked, "Can you read this? I never learn how to read anything more complex than a Trwaj hand."

Edmund passed her the note and she looked it over.

"It's more or less just a jumble of words in bad Noble Hand, but if I were to try and make them make sense, it would be something along the lines of 'Meet in the...maintenance room an hour after the night shift change. Use the gift to escape.'" Lara read, "What is this?"

"I think we found ourselves a Shard supplier." Edmund said, "I'll meet them tonight."

"You sure? It could be a trap." Lara said.

"We got nothing to lose, princess."

Lara clicked her tongue with disapproval, "I'm not a princess."

"If something happens to me, I uh...Use this as best you can." Edmund said.

Though every bone in his body screamed for him not to, Edmund broke the God Shard in half and discreetly handed one half to Lara.

Her eyes grew wide, "Where'd you get this?"

"Not so loud!" Edmund hissed, "That's the gift for me so I can meet this person. I can make do with a tenth of a shard when it comes to locks, so I should be fine. But you at least deserve a chance."

"I...I don't know what to say." Lara muttered.

"Say nothing. Better for the job that way." Edmund shrugged.

Lara snorted in response.

Later that night, each of the prisoners had been locked up in their cells once again.

Edmund kept his ear to the ground, ensuring no one was around. A patrol had just passed by and their footsteps were growing fainter. His cellmate was also asleep, making this an opportune time to break out.

Edmund swallowed the half God Shard he'd kept, feeling the power of the Wells flood into his body.

However, breaking himself free would be more complicated than just making a lock brittle. These doors had locks built into them and he had to make sure the other prisoners didn't wake.

Edmund cast a Truthfler, using a continuous stream of energy to chill the water in the air around the locking mechanism. The more intricate parts would freeze easier, but he kept on for far longer than his escape attempt at the garrison building.

Finally, he pulled on the door. The parts inside the locking mechanism essentially shattered the moment they were strained, allowing him to sneak out and close the door from the outside.

Edmund crept to the nearest iron grate and popped it open to crawl into the ship's advanced ventilation systems before replacing it. Most of the long voyage ships that the Empire didn't use for war were of the same model, so he reasoned he would be able to find the maintenance room fairly easily.

Edmund scoured the vents for the maintenance, still vigilant for Enforcer patrols.

Finally, he found the room and crawled through a small grate to get inside. It was more a closet than a room, full of cleaning supplies and tools to fix the ship.

He found himself there with another person in the room.

"Welcome, friend."

The man's voice was jovial, which caught Edmund somewhat off guard. This new person was of a slightly shorter, slightly stockier stature when compared to Edmund himself. He had long yellow hair that collected around his shoulders and facial hair that seemed to be well-styled before going untreated for several days. His blue eyes were full of a sense of life that seemed unreasonable or even dangerous to have on a ship as depressing as this one.

"Edmund Isley," he introduced himself, "What's your name?"

"Pasco Keriell at your service," the man bowed theatrically.

Edmund's mouth became stressed, "Were you the one who slipped me the God Shard."

"I am indeed. And it seems you've made good use of it." Pasco said, "I heard you were looking to escape and kind of overheard you talking to that old thief. You need God Shards. I can give them to you."

"In exchange?"

"In exchange, I want in on your plot. I also want a lute."

"A lute? Now?" Edmund raised an eyebrow.

"No, no. But later on. Say within a month from now. I'll consider that payment."

"I mean...alright." Edmund muttered.

Pasco reached into a fold in his rags and drew out a small battered tin that normally would've been found on an Enforcer's belt. He popped open the lid to reveal it was full of God Shards.

"Champions, where did you get this much?" Edmund hissed.

"I have my ways. Don't worry. There isn't any trail leading back to us."

Edmund snatched up the tin and stowed it away.

"So we have a deal?" Pasco held out his hand.

Edmund took it without hesitation.


	5. Chapter 4: The Approach to Sudebron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara realizes the scope of the predicament she's in. Edmund seems to have made an incorrect choice of allies.

Lara held the half God Shard in her fingers, twirling it within her grasp. They had only one day after tonight before their escape attempt. With each second that passed, her anticipation grew alongside her uneasiness.

Her entire life, Lara had desperately wanted to be a flerfinger. At first it was just so she could live up to Lynde, which sounded odd considering she was her sister’s elder. But after studying the art for so long, she realized she had a passion for immersing herself in the properties and science of fler casting.

Now she had it. And it was intoxicating. She found herself looking at the God Shard the way a drunkard would look at a bottle of expensive wine. It took everything in her not to eat it.

But if she did...She might be able to break out of here. Defeat the Enforcers. Hijack the ship.

 _Come on, Shawe,_ she thought to herself, _you’re far and away from invincible._

What if she could cast Flerishes? Like that Gammond had claimed to be able to do.

_What am I even thinking? I’m ruined!_

She’d been taken from her home without so much as a word of goodbye to her family, demoted to a caste so low, it wasn’t even considered a caste and was likely going to die.

As much as she didn’t want to believe Edmund, she knew how the people regarded heretics. Bronduk had no sympathy for them. Thieves could be redeemed, murderers could be redeemed. Hell, even rapists and mass killers could receive forgiveness. She felt a twinge of hate spike through her. Blasphemers had no chance whether on purpose or by accident. By rejecting Bronduk, you reject his forgiveness. Even if you didn’t really mean it, the Church wouldn’t know. Nor care.

It was all too depressing for her. The more she thought about it, the deeper a hole her psyche was dug into. It’d be better to just keep her mind on her flers.

Those fantasies of wielding Flerical power made time go by like a bolt of lightning. It really helped take her mind off all the chaos. It wasn’t too long before Edmund crept back into his cell.

“How’d it go?” Lara asked.

Edmund had a wide, dumb grin plastered to his face as he held up a small tin full to the brim with God Shards.

Lara’s eyes bugged out, “How...That’s half a year’s supply for an Enforcer. Buying that many would cost a small fortune.”

“Well all I have to do is let our accomplice in on the plan and buy him a lute down the line.” Edmund smiled, “I explained all the timing and locations to him.”

“That’s incredible.” Lara gasped.

Edmund shrugged, “What can I say? I’m just that good.”

“If I recall, it was that accomplice of ours who actually stole the Shards.” she said dryly.

“This’ll last us long after the escape.” Edmund said, “And I doubt anyone would suspect a first time criminal and former noblewoman to have stolen a small fortune of God Shards.”

Edmund slid the tin through the bars to within Lara’s reach. She quickly snatched them up, just in time for a pair of Enforcers to round the corner.

They both pretended to be asleep until they passed.

“Why are you handing them to me? I mean, the half shard was bad enough, but Bronduk’s thumbs, Edmund,” Lara hissed, “They’re too important.”

“Precisely because of their importance, I’m handing them off to you. I can’t say for sure whether I trust that man. If something happens, they’ll grab me. He doesn’t know you’re involved. I think.”

“I...I suppose you have a point.” Lara said, “But what happens if you get caught?”

“Well, use them to come rescue me.” Edmund stated bluntly, “Though I will keep one on me.”

“Right...oh, another thing. I, er...may have encountered some people who overheard our conversation.” Lara muttered sheepishly.

“And you didn’t think to tell me until now?” Edmund raised his eyebrows.

“They want in. I only met one of them, but they claim to be prisoners of war from the Northern Front. And one of them’s a Flerfinger.”

Edmund cupped his chin, “Emryd soldiers, eh? That would make sense. And more hands might be a good thing. Can you confirm they’re soldiers? If they are, I wouldn’t say no to them.”

“I can find out tomorrow.” Lara said.

Edmund nodded, “Tomorrow then. As soon as you can. If they aren’t who we think they are, we’ll have a problem on our hands.”  
________________________________________________________

At lunch the next day, Lara had decided to sit with Gammond. He was already accompanied by a companion of his.

Sitting next to Gammond was a female Auriok prisoner. The Auriok were a people who lived in a system of caves called the Kagnar in the east of the Empire. The Auriok had long been subdued and used as a workforce for the Atrellians given their high tolerance to their environment and relatively cheap cost of living.

The only thing is, Auriok used precious metals and gemstones as a food source, all of which could hold small amounts of Megyno, the power God Shards used to draw on the Five Wells. The cheapest way to feed them was through gold. But since gold was a status symbol and God Shards were so precious, many Auriok starved under the servitude of Atrellian Nobles.

As a result, free Aurioks joined the side of the Emryds and started fighting in the war against Atrell.

This Auriok woman was short in stature, her thick black hair kept in several braids. Like most Auriok, she has pale grey skin, pointed ears and black eyes with golden pupils. She likely had a mouth full of fangs as well.

“Gammond, who’s this Atrellian wretch?” the Auriok growled.

“Maybe don’t insult our ticket out of here on the first meeting, Lucia. She’s going to help us escape. She’s a prisoner.” Gammond said.

“She smells of nobility.” Lucia hissed.

“What can we do for you, Miss Shawe?” Gammond asked.

“So I checked with Edmund and he says that if you can prove you’re Emryd soldiers, you’re all good.” Lara said.

“That’s easy.” Gammond rolled up his tattered sleeve and showed her his forearm. A tattoo on it depicted a crest of some kind, “This is the brand of the Emryd Arcanum, the branch of the military that trains Flerfingers.”

“And her?” Lara asked, pointing to Lucia.

“I’m not showing you my crest, noblewoman.” Lucia spat.

Did everyone just opt for the low hanging fruit and pin everything on the actions of nobles? Yes, there were many nobles who were worthy of hatred. But most helped the Empire keep peace and stability. Without them, it would descend into chaos. As the thought crossed her mind, Gammond grabbed the Auriok’s arm and pulled up her sleeve. The same tattoos were there.

“Dammit, Gam!” Lucia wrenched her arm away, pulling her sleeve back down.

“So are we good?” Gammond asked.

Lara nodded, “You overheard the plan, didn’t you?”

Gammond nodded, hissing, “Day we land, fight past or escape the Enforcers and hide on a merchant vessel. Do you have our...fuel?”

Lara nodded, “I’ll give them to you on the day of the escape.”

“If this doesn’t work, noblewoman, I’ll drain all the Megyno from your body.” Lucia bared her mouth of sharp fangs.  
_____________________________________________________________________

Edmund stood out on the deck while everyone else had been locked in the mess hall. He was faced with the four Enforcers on duty this day. You don’t get ‘talked to in private’ by four flerfingers.

“Let me guess. Pasco ratted me out?” Edmund asked.

“Doesn’t matter who said what. Thing is, we know about your escape plan. You’re coming with us to solitary.” one of the Enforcers, shrouded by his faceless mask said, “For that, you won’t be having a trial. You’ll be sent to the Eastern Front.”

Edmund evaluated his odds. He didn’t like them, but it was better with the God Shard he’d kept. That and the remaining power of the half he’d eaten the night before would be enough to hold them off if he played his cards right.

 _Hold them off until what?_ He asked himself.

But his body was ready to either run or fight, damn the consequences.

Edmund pulled out the God Shard and nearly swallowed it whole. He cast his Truthfler again, this time enabling the Fler’s second ability to predict the future. Well, in a sense.

Each of the Enforcers gained a translucent blue shadow around them that made movements that were quickly followed by the actual Enforcers seconds later.

He ducked down as they all extended their hands, unleashing waves of suppressing force.

Edmund sprung up from the ground and tackled one of the Enforcers, using him as a springboard to return to his feet and face the other three.

He was only able to dodge their Lawflers’ blasts of force by a hair. The projection of their flers wasn’t shown by the Truthfler, so Edmund had to make his best guess as to where they were aiming.

There was one thing he could do to counterattack, however. Edmund focused on a cloud just a ways ahead, cooling the water within and causing a short, heavy rain to slam down onto the deck.

The Enforcers looked up in confusion before Edmund chilled the water, frosting over their bodies with a thin layer of ice. But that wouldn’t hold them for long.

Something grabbed onto his ankle. The last Enforcer he had tackled. Edmund shook off the Enforcer with a solid kick and backed up, watching to see the movements of his blue shadow.

The Enforcer attacked directly, drawing a short gladius sword from his belt. Edmund dodged two swings before slamming his elbow into the Enforcer’s diaphragm, sending him coughing and sputtering to the ground.

Edmund grabbed him by his near faceless mask and slammed his head into the deck, denting the wood and knocking the man out. Edmund stole the gladius from his hands and turned to face the other three as they were shaking off their frosted shells.

As they broke free, two of them immediately began attacking again. Edmund evaded them thanks to the future prediction, but they were both too overwhelming to respond to.

Suddenly, the drain on his wells stopped and the shadows vanished. A well-placed knee strike slammed into his gut, sending him to the ground, the gladius sword clattering against the floorboards.

Edmund was slammed against the cabin wall by the invisible restraining force the Enforcers used.

His fler was cut off by the third Enforcer. Tricky bastard cracked and nullified Edmund’s Truthfler with his Lawfler while he wasn’t paying attention.

Edmund strained to look upwards and cast his Truthfler. He froze an entire cloud, condensing it into a large ball of ice that dropped, splintering the deck and nearly hitting the Enforcer who had cracked his fler.

But only he was startled. The ice ball posed no immediate threat to the ones holding him and thus, they didn’t bother looking.

Another cloud was turned into rain as it passed over the airship, but Edmund froze the cloud even further, turning the rain drops into ice needles.

The Enforcers flinched finally, as the rain of needles landed, letting Edmund drop to the ground.

He scampered into the cabin, scurrying around the twisting hallways and tunnels as the Enforcers chased him.

Edmund ran into and shut the door of a room, holding his back to it so he could catch his breath. Though it seemed that this was a bedroom. Full of sleeping Enforcers.

The Enforcers inside started to slowly come to just as Edmund was blown away along with the door as the three Enforcers from earlier blew it off its hinges.

Edmund panicked, turning the water in the air into a thick steam. It wasn’t long before the whole room was full of it, obscuring his location.

The Enforcers started shouting in confusion.

“What was that?”

“Where’s the boy?”

“Someone clear out this fog!”

Meanwhile, Edmund slipped into the vents amidst the chaos.

 _Damn that corn-haired whoreson!_ Edmund grit his teeth. If he saw Pasco again, he’d throttle the little shit. The Enforcers thought to only corner him, so it could’ve only been Pasco.

He crawled as fast as he could towards the mess hall. They might just have to hijack the airship if they wanted to survive.

Nevertheless, he needed more God Shards.

Edmund popped open the grate to the mess hall and dropped in. All the guards were gone.

“Edmund?” Lara cried, “Champions, they locked down the whole ship looking for you!”

“This is the twerp that’s causing all this chaos? This part of your little plan?” Kymine roared from among the crowd.

“This would never have happened if Pasco hadn’t sold me out!” Edmund shouted just as the door slammed open, “Shi-”

Edmund didn’t have time to react before five Enforcers were holding him down.

Lara and the others were all held at spearpoint by guards. She looked at him, eyes wide with the overwhelmed sense of not knowing what to do.

Edmund mouthed, “Don’t die,” as clearly as he could before the Enforcers dragged him off.


	6. Chapter 5: To War!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara is put on trial for her heresy. Edmund is sent to the Eastern Front of Atrell's expansion.

Sudebron was one of many thousands of islands, sandbars and islets that dotted the Ansami archipelago. It was one of the larger ones and considered, for as long as history has been recorded, as a holy site since the days that predated the Ansam Empire.

During the last few years of the Ansami Golden Age, Sudebron had a temple built upon it dedicated to Bronduk and would house the forge in which the Titan-slaying sword Shadowbane would be made.

However in recent years, it has become a place of judgement. Where criminals go to perish under the blinding light of Bronduk’s justice.

Lara didn’t have an inkling of an idea of what to do the next day as they arrived. Because of Edmund’s fight, all prisoners were watched by Enforcers around the clock, not giving them the opportunity to escape when they landed.

Even if there hadn’t been an increase in vigilance on the ship, they were met on the island by a small army of Enforcers. No matter how many God Shards they had, three people wouldn’t be able to defeat this many.

She didn’t see Edmund as they disembarked in a long line of shackles. A cast iron ring was locked around her waist and connected to prisoners in a similar situation in front and behind her.

They were forced off the airship and down a stone brick path leading to the temple of Sudebron.

Lara would’ve stopped to admire the island’s natural beauty, were she not here as a prisoner on trial. The Atrellian homeland of the was tropical and warm year round, giving birth to many colorful species of plants and animals.

The stone path soon became a beaten dirt road as the Enforcers shoved the line of prisoners on at the tip of their blades. Her feet pulsed against the soil, echoing her own increasing heart beat.

The tin of God Shards was still in the folds of her rags. If she was caught with them, she’d be put to death on the spot.

Still, a small part of her hoped that the Kairolists would be merciful and hear her out.

Finally, the prisoners arrived at the foot of the temple. A sizable crowd from the port town on the other side of the island had gathered before the marble house of Bronduk.

The temple itself towered over Lara, supported by giant columns of stone and intricately carved with depictions of Hybald the Knight, the first of Bronduk’s chosen Champions.

Lara, along with the other prisoners, were forced into the temple’s entrance. The interior was also lined in marble columns, behind which more members of the crowd hid. At the back of the temple, stood a solid golden statue of Hybald, ten feet tall, depicting the chiseled and idealized hero of ages past.

At the base of the statue, sat members of the Kairolists, the priest caste that passed judgement upon the people of Atrell. Each of them were clothed in linen togas and adorned in gold and jewels. Their eyes were covered by blindfolds, each with the green eye of Bronduk painted on. There sat three of them, one man and two women, all with their heads shaved.

Once the prisoners came to a stop before them, the crowd’s murmurs died down.

“Ye, who have betrayed Bronduk,” the male Kairolist announced, slowly and loudly, “Who have broken his trust and maimed his love, today we shall decide what fate you shall suffer for abandoning our savior.”

Lara was freed from the waistband that chained her to the other prisoners, but not her shackles. One by one, each of the prisoners made their case to the Kairolists. With each that went by, Lara started to believe Edmund more and more. These weren’t trials. They were just spectacles, meant to portray themselves as fair. 

The Kairolists used half-truths and double-speak to twist the words of the defendants into an admission of guilt. And the punishments that came afterwards were simply cruel.

One man had simply stolen some bread because his family wasn’t receiving enough food from the Pious Distribution. Yes, he admitted to the crime, but he was sentenced to getting his hand chopped off. Not only was it harsh, but it made him unable to work, which he needed to do in order for the Distribution to apply.

The criminals who had been here before simply stayed silent as the Kairolists reviewed a summary of their case and sentenced them. They didn’t even get the opportunity to represent themselves.

None of them got so much as a lawyer.

At last, it was her turn. She stepped into a space of empty stone floor, facing the priests.

“Lara Valentina Shawe,” a bailiff who stood to the Kairolists’ side read from a piece of parchment, “Noble born, first offense.”

“What is her crime?” The male Kairolist asked.

“Assault with a forbidden Fler.” the bailiff reported.

“Heresy...do we have witnesses?” the Kairolist asked.

“Yes sir, Godric Spetyll, victim of the assault.”

“Victim?” Lara murmured under her breath, gritting her teeth.

Spetyll, dressed in a navy blue suit, emerged from the crowd and stood next to the Kairolists. Lara’s handprint made for an unsightly scar on his face. Lara’s mind became a muddled mixture of hatred and fear. She wanted to hide and attack at the same time. She was suspicious of all her surroundings, yet solely focused on him.

“She also has someone who has volunteered to defend her. Her father Lord Olaf Shawe.” The bailiff reported.

Her father’s monstrous figure emerged from the crowd as he stepped up beside Lara. The momentary confusion she felt dissipated slightly upon seeing someone she could rely on. 

“Father!” Lara gasped, tears of relief welling up in her eyes, “Father. I-I...why? Why is this happening? Please, tell them I did nothing wrong. I was just trying to defend myself.”

“Control yourself, Lara.” Lord Shawe said. His emotionlessness hit her like a punch to the gut. It was so unlike her father, “I will discuss this with you later.”

Lara let out a shaky breath. What? Wasn’t he worried? Wasn’t he relieved to see her unharmed?

“Lord Spetyll, explain to us what happened that night, if you would.” The Kairolist said.

“Of course, excellency.” Spetyll muttered bitterly, “On the night of the harvest ball, Miss Shawe came to be my partner during one of the dances. She soon lured me into one of the back hallways of Shawe keep, promising promiscuous favors.”

Lara was ready to tear out that man’s voice box as he spit lies into the air. The concoction of rage, despair, and desperation was starting to become too much for her.

“I admit that my desires were scandalous, though I have since repented. In the back hallway, she proceeded to ignite her devilish Flers and attack me, attempting to sacrifice me to whatever pagan god she got her power from.” Spetyll said.

“I see. The defense?” The Kairolist asked.

“Pagan god?” Lord Shawe bellowed, “Lara has been of the most devout followers of Bronduk since she was a child. This is bordering on slanderous, Spetyll.

“What’s more, my daughter would never promise anyone such things. Especially Lord Spetyll. If you recall a case from nine years ago, the Kairolists sentenced Spetyll to fight on the front lines after being found guilty of the sexual assault of my daughter.” Lord Shawe said.

“How,” one of the female Kairolists asked, “Can you say with absolute certainty your daughter would never promise such things? That alone does not prove her innocent.”

“Regardless of her intentions,” the male Kairolist said, “That is not the crime she is on trial for. All we need to know is whether your daughter has manifested Abyssal or demonic flers.”

“My daughter has long attempted to manifest Flers, but has never been able to do so successfully. She has never shown signs of being a Flerfinger, so how could she suddenly become one now?” Lord Shawe asked.

“We will proceed to a test, then.” The Kairolist said. An Enforcer stepped forward from behind Lara and opened her tin of God Shards. She handed one to a female Kairolist and fed one to Lara. The Kairolist also ate her God Shard.

“Draw from your Wells.” The female Kairolist said, invoking the Lawfler’s third ability to pacify resistance.

Lara’s head grew woozy as she was compelled to draw from her power, but quickly realized she was being coerced. She tried her best to resist, but ultimately failed to do so before the Kairolist’s monstrous power.

Lara’s hands started to glow bright red like hot irons. The shackles around her wrists started to heat up as well, but didn’t burn her skin. That sensation again ran through her arms. Like pleasantly cool water running through her veins, yet prickly as ice at the same time.

Murmurs and gasps erupted among the crowd. Soon, she was let go and allowed to stop.

“I think that speaks for itself.” The Kairolist said.

Lord Shawe looked at Lara’s hands, stunned by what he had seen. A complicated mix of emotions brewed in his eyes. He turned to the front, “But your excellency, she was just using it in self defense!”

“Self defense or not, she has blasphemed Bronduk by using such dark arts. That is not one of the six flers, but the same devil magic used by the Emryds. We have no choice but to declare her guilty.” The male Kairolist said.

“But-“ Her father tried to interject.

“Lara Shawe, we of Bronduk’s tongue find you guilty. Your sentence for heresy shall be death by beheading.”

“No!” Lord Shawe exclaimed.

“Begone. Bring the next prisoner.”

Lara blinked. She had a defense. They heard her father speak in her favor. And yet she had been so easily sent to die…  
_____________________________________________________

Lord Shawe hadn’t stayed around. He’d left in frustration and despair, without even so much as a goodbye. It was understandable. No parent wished to see their child executed. But he could do nothing about it, even as a noble. It probably made him more frustrated than her.

She and the other prisoners who had been sentenced to death were being taken by horse drawn cart to the town on the coast for the executions. Gammond sat next to her and Lucia across from her with someone she didn’t know next to the Auriok.

“Unfortunate, eh?” Gammond muttered, “But at least we tried.”

Lara didn’t respond.

She had resigned herself. She was already dead, a walking corpse. Whether on purpose or subconsciously, Lara managed to block out everything. She didn’t even want to think. She just wanted this disaster to finally end.

She opened her eyes as the cart stopped in the town square. Lara followed Gammond and the other two prisoners with them out of the cart to gather around a chopping block held up on a wooden platform.

“Bear witness, people of Sudebron! These are the treacherous Snakes who threaten the sanctity of our Empire!”

Some highborn official was shouting a bunch of nonsense at the crowd. Since when did she consider it nonsense? If it was because she was now on the nasty end of those beliefs, her devotion must not have been that genuine in the first place.

“ _Logar Mande Portus!_ ” the official shouted, allowing the line to be echoed back by the gathering crowd. The mantra of the Empire. ‘Know your place.’

‘Know you place’? What horse shit. The Empire of the People had no care for its citizens. All it cared about was power and that those who had it kept it.

Prisoners with the same dejected expression as her willingly walked to the block and allowed the executioner to take their lives without protest. Lara heard her name called, accompanied by her crime. It was her turn.

Lara ascended onto the wooden platform and knelt before the block. Her neck was pressed to the warm, bloodstained stone.

The executioner raised his axe in the air.

Some part of her that still wished to preserve her life forced her eyes shut. But...the axe never came.

Then a blast. A noise that shook the earth and deafened Lara spread across the town. She cracked her eyes open to a flood of purple light. She lifted herself from the chopping block to find the entire town square enveloped in a violet inferno.

_What in the Roil?_

A singular scream echoed across the sky, ear piercing and organ shaking. A warped, terrible roar of some monstrous animal.

That’s when she saw the shadow. Perched on the cone roof of the watchtower, hanging onto it with a giant claw, was what Lara could’ve only described as a demon.

The creature was at least ten feet tall, with its grey, hulking, humanoid body. Its torso and arms were covered in protrusions made of a stone-like material that formed a sort of natural armor, a complex array of spines on its back and a massive set of four moose-like horns.

The creature’s face was pudgy and smooshed flat with a wide nose and beady red eyes that glowed with color despite nothing else having any. A pair of giant leathery wings shrouded the monster, their bottoms also lined in stone. With each roar, it flashed a mouthful of fearsome dagger-like fangs.

The creature inhaled before unleashing a heavy stream of violet flames, spewing the fire all over the buildings and people of the town. It was so powerful, it even destroyed the stone foundations and roads.

Lara flinched as a hand rested on her shoulder. It was Gammond.

“Let’s go.” he said, “Still have those God Shards?”

Lara hesitantly nodded, confused. She pulled the God Shards out from her rags. Gammond snatched them up and swallowed two of them before handing them back.

“These circumstances are...favorable.” Gammond muttered, “Let’s find a boat before they’re destroyed.”

Lara felt the influence of adrenaline wash over her as she ate two God Shards. The power in her...it was too tempting to continue resigning herself to her fate.

Gammond and Lara ran from the town square, picking up a very unhappy Lucia on their way out as the demon continued to wreak havoc throughout the town.

Enforcers came down from the temple, trying to attack it with volleys of crossbow bolts and shrapnel metal propelled by Lawflers. All attacks deflected off its stone skin. A few Seekers managed to hold it down with ice from a Truthfler, but only for a few seconds.

Meanwhile, Gammond, Lara and Lucia stumbled into the harbor. It was relatively undamaged, but many of the boats were in flames.

“Find something that’ll get us across the Central Sea and is wind powered!” Lucia shouted.

Lara had no idea what to look for. She’d never spent any time around boats, despite living in a port town.

“Hey! Some of the prisoners are escaping!” An Enforcer shouted, bringing two more of her kind to her aid.

“Shawe, can you handle them?” Gammond asked.

“You two look for a ship!” Lara shouted, her hands glowing red. The heat made her shackles soft, allowing her to break them off her. Again, she felt no pain from the heat.

The exhilaration of power made her excited to fight.

She found a dead guard and pulled the sword off his hip and drew it. It was a one handed arming sword that was standard issue among town guards.

Lara knew fencing mostly, which suited better to a rapier. But this would be good enough if she could pierce Enforcer plate armor. She grasped the tip of the blade, channeling heat into that hand until the metal was nearly orange.

The Enforcers attacked with their gladiuses and bucklers to conserve power for Flers. Lara lowered into the stance of River form, a fighting style that focused on allowing her to flow around multiple opponents.

She bounded forward off one leg in a practiced motion as the first Enforcer swung her blade. Lara moved past the weapon’s trajectory and swiped at the Enforcer behind her. He collapsed in pain, the blade making a deep wound in his side.

Lara immediately spun as the first Enforcer reoriented herself. She allowed the gladius to skid off the edge of her parry before slashing the Enforcer’s leg.

Vertigo exploded through her head as the third Enforcer bashed her in the skull with his buckler. Lara stumbled away, catching herself before she keeled over.

The Enforcer followed up with a sword swing, which Lara caught in the arming sword’s crossguard before returning the favor and slamming the pommel of the weapon into the Enforcer’s face mask, shattering the ceramic plate.

“Shawe! We found one!” Gammond called from a few yards away.

Lara pressed her glowing hand to the Enforcer’s throat, cringing at the quickly fading screams evoked from her.

“Lara!” Gammond snapped.

Lara blinked before pulling her hand away and extinguishing her fler.

The boat they’d picked up was a small caravel. Lara climbed up the wooden bridge and dragged it onto the boat’s deck just as Lucia raised the sails and Gammond unleashed a powerful torrent of force with a Lawfler to get it moving.

It wasn’t long before the sails caught wind and they were carried away from the island.  
_________________________________________________________________________

Edmund squinted his eyes as the long line of prisoners were led out from below deck. It was the first time he’d seen the sun in days and not been surrounded by disease, famine, and death.

Miraculously, or accursedly, Edmund had survived the trip to the Atrellian front on Morgaul.

As his eyes adjusted, he was forced down a wooden bridge onto a dock. The exotic scenery before him was little more than a massive war camp. A stone fortress had been hastily built on the shore a mile or so away and sprawling from all that was the army’s home base.

Tents and poorly built stone shacks covered the expanse of land.

The air was dry and hot, causing sweat to already start forming on Edmund’s body. He was brought onto the land, which was made from barren stone and burning sand. His bare feet seared, but Edmund fought through the relatively minor pain in comparison to the journey here.

He was lined up with all the other prisoners that had been sentenced to fight.

Edmund glanced down the line, his face twisting up into a grin to see that Pasco was still alive and here with him.

_I’m gonna enjoy using that bastard as a meat shield._

A man dressed in white clothes and a minimal, yet decorative amount of armor approached the line. He carried a stylized helmet under his arm and let a white cape billow behind him as though the wind was a pair of slaves holding it up for him. He was a tall, muscular man of about fifty with thick, but greying short hair and a beard. His face was tan, almost reddish in color, a distinguishing feature of natives to Atrell.

“You Snake bastards all know why you’re here,” the man spat, “My name is Lieutenant Warren. I’m responsible for making sure you maggots stay in line. You’re all gonna die, so you might as well do something useful with that death. Your only job here is to get killed. Those Morgaul bastards are damn good on horses and too fast for our cavalry to distract before they disrupt our formations. We give each of you a spear and a pair of sandals. Whenever we’re on the field, you traitors are to rush towards their vanguard and distract them until their riders die. If you don’t charge, you still die. Slowly. Need I repeat myself?”

One of the prisoners raised his hand.

“Question?”

“If we live long enough, do we get to start lickin’ up Noble dung in exchange for fancy clothes too?” the prisoner asked.

Many of the other prisoners chuckled.

“Flay him.” Warren muttered, “To death.”

Like that, all the chuckles vanished.

“Wait, what-” the prisoner started before he was taken out of line by two Enforcers and dragged off.

“Anyone else have comical remarks about my position?”

Edmund raised his shackled hand.

“What?” Warren asked, his brow nearly on the edge of displaying anger.

“What actually happens if we live long enough?” Edmund asked. He already had a plan brewing. If he could get paid, even a small amount, for his services, he could acquire the means needed to free himself. If not, he’d just defect to Morgaul. Assuming they took defectors.

“Well, under the Creed of Hope, the army is obligated to pay you a small weekly wage. But the most you’ll ever save up is a Knuk. That it? Good. Now get to your barracks, you shits!”

Each of the prisoners were assigned barracks, which were little more than some stone foundations with tattered cloth draped over them and sleeping mats on the inside. Only a numbered weapons rack carrying spears and sandals were outside to identify them.

Edmund was assigned Barrack Eight and was...the only one in there. He sighed and sat down on the sleeping mat with the most shade.

The heat here was unbearable. Not only was it intense, but it was dry. Dust already caked his skin and made his body desperate for water. Though it could be worse. Sleeping with...six, Edmund counted, other people must be far worse.

Edmund’s mind started to drift to money, as it often did. A weekly wage. For a criminal, that would likely be no more than seven Nins. Barely enough for an apple. But that was a Knuk and four Nins every two weeks. A Knurrin for every year of his sentence would be needed to pay it off.

But he had two life sentences. There was no way he could gather a hundred and sixty Knurrins before his death. 16,000 Nins...no way in the Abyss.

Maybe if he could find some God Shards...they had an insane production rate on the fronts. This time without his help.

Someone entered his barrack. That yellow hair and smug grin.

“Speak of the Titans.” Edmund growled at Pasco.

“Oh.” Pasco pursed his lips, disappointed, “I see that this living arrangement is going to be...less than ideal.”

“You better fucking believe it’s gonna be less than ideal!” Edmund grabbed Pasco by the collar of his rags and slammed him into the stone floor.

Pasco coughed up the wind from his lungs before wheezing, “Well, aren't we forward today?”

“Eat shit, you snitch! What the hell did they promise you for selling me out? A reduced sentence? Some other dumb fuckery?” Edmund roared, “I’m gonna clench my fist around your throat and watch as the life drains from your eyes, you vermin!”

A loud, deep wailing noise echoed throughout the camp.

“Morgaul force incoming! To arms!” a voice called from outside.

“Saved by the warhorn, I guess.” Pasco shrugged.

Edmund grumbled as he let go of his grip on the man. He peered outside to find soldiers running about in a frenzy.

“To arms, maggots!” Lieutenant Warren roared, grabbing Edmund by the shoulder and yanking him out of his barrack, “Get your shit and yourselves to the front lines unless you wanna end up a bloody mess tied to a post!”

Edmund staggered to his feet, glaring at the back of Warren’s head. Begrudgingly, he grabbed one of the spears off barrack Eight’s rack and slipped on the sandals, tying the leather straps up.

Edmund wasn’t too keen on being flogged to death, so he followed other like-minded prisoners through the war camp.

He made it to the wooden walls surrounding the inner camp, facing the Morgaul Steppe and ran to the front of the assembling army. The outer areas of the camp were undefended by walls or battlements, likely due to a lack of lumber. So the Morgauls could easily raid those parts for supplies.

Several men atop the walls manned crossbows and mounted ballistae. Rows upon rows of soldiers on the ground loaded their crossbows, the first line kneeling and ready to fire. 

“When we tell you to charge, Snakes, you charge!” Warren shouted.

Edmund gripped his spear’s wooden shaft with both hands. It was poorly made, to say the least. He wasn’t even sure if the tip was sharp.

The beautiful azure sky and quiet rocky desert before them didn’t match the adrenaline Edmund felt staring at the horizon.

Of ten rows of prisoner soldiers, he was in the seventh. Not bad.

He could hear whispers of the infantrymen three rows behind him, hidden behind stacked triangular shields.

“Does this mean they took Fort Killigrew?” one of them asked.

“Please. Killigrew is manned by the best of the best. They probably went around and want to take this fort so they can attack from behind.” another said.

Then, upon the horizon, against the clear blue sky, a tiny black shape could be seen. Then another. And another. Then ten. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred. Three hundred. A thousand.

As they grew closer, Edmund could see they were all on horseback. Or...something like a horse. He couldn’t tell from that distance, but their mounts looked awfully strange.

An impact sounded from just in front of Edmund. A black arrow, wrapped in white and red feathers had impaled the ground next to a surprised prisoner.

“Shields!” Some far-off voice commanded.

The soldiers behind them raised their triangular, bronze-coated shields over their heads as more arrows started to fall. It soon became a full-on rain. Luckily for the Snakes, most of the arrows were concentrated on the main force and not the front lines. Though, a stray arrow did kill the man in front of Edmund.

“Bowmen, return fire!”

Ballista bolts, crossbow bolts, and arrows from long range war bows streaked overhead, showering the quickly incoming Morgaul force.

“It’s just raiders! Crossbowmen, retreat into the fort! Man the walls! Infantry, bar the gate! Snakes, run crowd control!”

Edmund whirled around to see all the men except the Snakes retreat into the safety of the fort.

“Fuck.” he muttered.

The Morgauls were fast approaching. The louder their hoofbeats shook the earth, the more Edmund’s hands trembled.

Then, “Snakes! Charge!”

Nobody budged, too terrified to dare venture out.

“I said charge!”

A few who were willing to take their chances with the Morgauls yelled terrified screams as they rushed forward, spears in hand.

Edmund let out a slow and calm breath before rushing in himself.

Another rain of arrows hit the ground, but Edmund didn’t stand around to see what happened. He charged past the range of the arrows and ran right at the black galloping steed that towered over him.

The Morgauls were giants. Each was at least seven feet tall and their mounts were proportionally sized. The horses had a rock-like carapace over their skin instead of hair. Other than that, they were just normal, giant, seemingly bloodthirsty, invincible horses. Well, invincible save for an underbelly of flesh.

Edmund didn’t hesitate to plant his feet and let the horse of the first oncoming Morgaul impale itself on his spear. The mount collapsed, sliding to a halt, with its rider crushed underneath. The Morgaul roared in pain and frustration. 

Edmund had never really seen a Morgaul before today. But the legends were surprisingly accurate. They were large, with grey skin, beady eyes, thick black hair and flat faces. 

Edmund grabbed a weighty sword and better made spear from the horse while its rider struggled against the weight.

He slung the sword around his waist and backed away from the massive engagement of Morgaul cavalry and practically defenseless Snakes.

Despite the overwhelming fear and fight or flight instinct, Edmund remained as calm as he could manage, using his thief’s wit to figure how to best survive the encounter.

Crossbow bolts rained down onto the fray from Atrellian troops. While they took out many Morgauls, they were indiscriminate with their fire, killing Snakes as well.

These people really were ready to kill him without hesitation. He would just have to take opponents as they came.

One Morgaul, whose horse had presumably been killed, pointed his spear at Edmund, speaking their garbled, guttural language. Edmund didn’t know what it meant, but standing still would mean death. So, Edmund didn’t hesitate to run up and thrust the spear at his face.

The Morgaul reacted quickly, knocking Edmund’s spear from its path and slamming the butt of the spear into his eye. Edmund stumbled back, clutching his injured eye. The Morgaul swept his spear out, swiftly knocking Edmund to the ground. The monster stepped over him and positioned the spear to deal the killing blow.

Edmund rolled over and kicked out the Morgaul’s leg, causing it to slide and disrupt his balance. He grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into his enemy’s eyes. The Morgaul roared, stumbling over and clutching his face.

Edmund grabbed his spear and stabbed the Morgaul in the stomach.

He slammed the shaft of his spear into the front legs of an oncoming horse, snapping the weapon and causing its rider to fly forward. He didn’t hesitate to kill his second Morgaul.

The shaft of a spear slammed into his back, pushing him to the ground and causing pain to flare up in his spine.

Edmund stood, but found himself scrambling back as the horse his attacker was riding reared up. He lunged for the horse, abandoning his restraint. He eventually managed to kill his third.

Edmund was panting like a dog. He had his lungs burning, heart slamming, and legs cramping. But he continued to fight for his life.

Edmund staggered back from his fourth kill and saw that no more horses had yet to come. He looked behind him and saw the massacre.

Nearly a thousand were dead, strewn across the battlefield, trampled to death, shot, stabbed, dismembered. Both Snake and Morgaul. But a lot more of the former. Edmund collapsed to his knees, bile rising in his throat.

His hands were caked in blood. He had splatters of it across his face. Was he...the only...no. Edmund saw one of the corpses cough. They were playing dead. Despite the risk of being trampled to death.

At the wall, the Morgauls had strung up two horses to the gates, trying to pull them off while the crossbowmen above and the archers below exchanged fire.

Edmund bowed his head, leaning on a Morgaul spear. This...this bloodshed. This was his life. And it would be his death.

 _Conflict breeds strength,_ his father had once said. But Edmund didn’t feel strong at all. He was weaker than ever. Helpless and afraid. And all that conflict ever got his father was a bonfire with him as the tinder.

Edmund wheezed, his throat so full of dust, he could barely breathe. But the heaviest thing on his mind was the simple truth that he was now truly alone. No contacts to rely on. No allies to have his back. Not even his skills as a thief could prepare him for war.

He got lucky this time. But the next? Edmund surmised he wouldn’t get away unscathed.


	7. Chapter 6: The Land of Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara, Lucia and Gammond wash ashore deep in Empire Territory on the Emryd Peninsula.

Lara gripped at the silt, dragging herself through the mud and away from the waves, coughing up lungfuls of water. Meanwhile, Gammond dragged an unconscious Lucia onto the shore next to her.

The Atrellian naval blockade extended further than what they had thought. With no weapons on the ship, it was inevitable that the Atrellians would sink it.

“Titans!” Lara heaved, finally able to breathe. She raked a filthy hand through her soaked hair, pushing it from her eyes, “We’re alive!”

“It’s a damn miracle we made it to land.” Gammond placed his two hands over Lucia’s chest, giving it three solid pumps before Lucia sat up, sputtering out water through a coughing fit.

Gammond sat back in the silt, clearly exhausted. He’d had to drag the Auriok all the way to shore.

“Where are we?” Lara groaned.

“Probably a ways south of the Ash Rim.” Gammond said, “Maladeth, likely.”

“At least we’re in Emreth.” Lara heaved.

“Not outta the woods yet, Atrellian.” Lucia staggered to her feet, “We’re still in Empire territory. They haven’t been able to cross the Ash Rim for years, but they’ve had time to make Maladeth into a proper province.”

“So Imperial Law still applies.” Lara sighed.

“Lucky for us, information about criminals comes only twice a year. They just got their shipment of harvest goods.” Gammond said, “Won’t be another update until spring.”

“Hopefully we can find a part of the Rim not currently under siege.” Lucia suggested.

Gammond shivered, “Gods, it’s freezing.”

“We’ll get a fire going, you big baby.” Lucia patted Gammond on the shoulder, “C’mon girl, help me gather some fuel.”

Lara pushed herself to her feet and followed Lucia towards a light forest. A large part of the forest seemed to have recently suffered a fire. Ash coated the ground and a good portion of the trees were burned up and charred.

Lara stepped over to the living trees and snapped off some twigs.

“What are you doing?” Lucia exclaimed.

Lara whirled around, “Gathering wood.”

“That wood is valuable. Leave it be. Get an armful of charcoal like a normal person.” Lucia sighed.

Lara gathered charcoal in silence, daring not to speak to Lucia. They brought their fuel, along with leaves for tinder back to the shore. The Auriok stacked the pieces of charcoal together and backed away as Lara heated her hands, igniting the fire.

Once she canceled the Fler, the heat managed to touch her hands.

“You know, I’ve seen your Fler before.” Gammond muttered, still holding himself as the sun set on the west horizon.

“You have?” Lara perked up.

“Nihilflers, my countrymen call them. We call their users Ignitors.” Gammond said.

“They’re used in the army all the time,” Lucia mentioned. “Great for setting explosions off.”

“Your country opposes the Well Glorekja so fervently, they wiped its existence from their society.” Gammond said, “But that doesn’t change the fact that there are people like us who can still use it.”

“Atrell isn’t ‘my country.’ They’ve shown me I’m not wanted. So I don’t want them either.” Lara growled.

Gammond nodded, “Fair.”

“Anyways, do you know where we’re going?” Lara asked.

“Lucia knows the South better than I do. It’s her call.” Gammond said, looking at the Auriok.

“There’s likely a town somewhere that’s more beach or river bank than river delta. We’ll stay there, stock up on supplies and head for the Ash Rim.”

“Stock up with what money?” Lara asked.

“We’ll have to sell the God Shards. How many do we have left?” Gammond looked to Lucia.

“Nine.” the Auriok said, “Last I checked.”

Gammond nodded, murmuring to himself, “Nine shards, two hundred Gabeks up north, South is a bit less...carry the two...standard exchange rate...How much will forty three Knurrins get us? I’m not too familiar with the value of Atrellian currency.”

“Forty three…” Lara thought, “Should be enough for clothes, food and water at the very least. Maybe enough for a horse if we’re stingy.”

“Hold off on the horse.” Lucia said, “We need to get Gammond a Stim for his Flerishes.”

“Why?” Lara asked.

“My Flerish lets me manipulate machinery.” Gammond said, “I can make us Sulfur masks without having to buy them. Without them, we’ll either suffocate at some point or accidentally inhale some deadly gas. The Ash Rim is full of nasty stuff.”

“Champions, this place is weird.” Lara muttered, lying down facing the fire.

“That are many far weirder places, Miss Shawe.” Gammond chuckled.

“Oh, please. Drop the Miss Shawe thing.” Lara scoffed, “My family name is the last thing I want to be referred to by.”

“So you won’t mind if I decided to start calling you Imperialist Dog?” Gammond grinned.

“And here I thought soldier boy had no sense of humor.” Lara muttered, the beginnings of a grin pulling at her lips. She probably should’ve taken offense, but any lightheartedness seemed a godsend to her.

“Go to sleep, dipshits.” Lucia scoffed.

“You go to sleep, dipshit.” Gammond muttered, falling back on the sediment.

With that, the conversation ended and Lara’s exhaustion, it didn’t take long for sleep to abduct her consciousness.

________________________________________________________________

A cold, salt water soaked rag hit Lara in the face just as she considered waking up.

After some coughing and sputtering, she opened her eyes to Lucia wringing seawater out of a torn piece of her prison rags.

“Get up, princess. We have a ways to travel today.” the Auriok flashed a grin full of fangs.

Lucia had ripped off the bottom of her ragged shirt and used it to pull her hair up, while using the bottoms of the pants to slap Lara awake.

As Lara stood, she found herself covered in dirt and saw Gammond at knee length in the ocean, taking care of that same problem.

“Wash up quick. We don’t have time to waste.”

“It’s barely dawn, Lucia. I think we have some time.” Lara groaned, looking up at the barely lit sky.

“Look again.” Lucia pointed up.

Despite the low amount of light, the sun was in fact nearly in its noon position. Some giant grey cloud was obscuring its rays.

“What is that?”

“Volcanic clouds from the Ash Rim.” Gammond shouted his answer, “We should get outta here in case it starts falling.”

“Hold on.” Lara blinked, “That whole thing is ash?”

“One of Emreth’s many...natural beauties.” Lucia muttered, “Get in the water. I already did half the job for you.”

Lara stepped into the sea, washing silt off her arms and neck. As she walked, her wet pants clung to her legs, making it harder to bend them. So she tore them at just above the knee and used the rags as washcloths.

She retreated onto the shore at around the same time as Gammond and got moving.

Lucia reported having watched as some fishermen came out in the morning before Lara was awake and led the two of them to the trail they’d used.

It was a beaten dirt path, which was a pain to walk with bare feet, but it was preferable to no path at all.

Only an hour passed in the forest before the three of them came upon a large clearing that housed the village the fishermen had come from.

There was just one problem. The village was being patrolled by a few Atrellian soldiers. White banners showcasing the navy blue and green scales of Atrell were strung up over any place they would fit.

Lara, Gammond and Lucia found a hiding place in some nearby shrubbery.

“Where is everyone?” Gammond asked in a hushed tone.

“Abyss, if I know.” Lucia whispered, “We need a way to get past those soldiers. Our rags will identify us immediately.”

“Can we...fight them?” Lara asked.

“Not without them signaling for backup. Plus, we need as many of those God Shards as we can keep.” said Lucia.

“How, uh...How good are you two with your hands? I think I have a really, really stupid idea.” Lara said.

Nearly two hours later, Lara approached the entrance to the village, head held high and back straightened with ingrained poise, wearing a dress cobbled together by leaves and fiber fastenings.

“Halt.” The guards immediately threatened their spears at her, “State your, er...purpose.”

“Purpose?” Lara exclaimed haughtily, “Gentlemen, I am Lara Shawe, daughter of Lord Shawe of the Southern Province. My aunt is on the Emperor’s court! But that shouldn’t even matter. As one of noble blood, I am entitled a Right to privacy.”

The guards lowered their weapons.

“Ahem,” The once very aggressive soldiers muttered, “Apologies, Lady Shawe. It’s just...we thought you were some kind of threat, especially given your choice of attire.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lara asked. Defensively.

“Ah, well...would you like us to get you something…more appropriate?”

“What it is, soldier, is the latest trend in noble fashion. All the young women dress this way. Even men sometimes.” Lara stated.

“A thousand apologies, my lady. But may I ask why you have come to Emreth and without so much as an escort?” the guard asked.

 _Damn, he’s nosy._ She thought.

Lara sighed, trying to resist the urge to shiver at the words, “I’ve...come to visit my uncle, Lord Spetyll.”

“Oh, of course. Would you like us to send word to the general of your arrival-”

“No!” Lara blurted out, “no, I already sent for him. My escort on the other hand, is helping that fool of a captain who got the boat lost. We ended up shipwrecked on the coast just south of here. They’re down there trying to fix their mishap.”

The guards frowned at her, but seemed to still believe her lie, “Would you wish us to see if they require any assistance, my lady?”

“Actually, yes. That would be very kind of you.” Lara gave a disingenuous smile, which seemed to satisfy them enough.

They left their posts, starting down the trail to the beach. With a glance behind her, she affirmed that Gammond and Lucia had knocked them out and dragged them into the bushes.

Minutes later, Lucia and Gammond emerged from the brush, dressed in the soldiers’ clothes and armed with their shortswords, leaving the rags behind.

As they met with her, Lucia immediately gagged.

“Tialeis’s thumbs, these smell like pig shit to an uncanny degree.” the Auriok groaned.

“I’m amazed that whole fashion excuse worked.” Gammond commented, “Is your aunt really on the Emperor’s council?”

Lara nodded, “The previous Lord Shawe’s sister. And I have a feeling I know what your next question is. Do not ask about my uncle. Yes, he is here. But I refuse to speak about or even mention his name.”

Gammond nodded, “Alright then. Guess we all need our secrets. Though, I think we should get you some real clothes.”

“At this point, an itchy work shirt and breeches would feel like silk to me.” Lara sighed.

“Well be quick about it. If those guards wake up, we’ll have to run. Fast.” Lucia said.

“Wait. Yours is alive?” Gammond furrowed his brow.

“Wha-of course he’s alive, Gam. What did you do?”

“No, what did you do?” Gammond frowned, stomping off towards the woods.

“What is he-” Lara started. She covered her mouth to muffle a yelp as Gammond drew his sword and slashed the throat of Lucia’s guard.

Lara stared in shock as Gammond sheathed the blade and made his way back.

“How many times have I told you, Lucia.” he growled, “Always finish the job. There. That’s half a week of time.”

Gammond didn’t even give Lara a passing glance as headed into town.

“Why would he…” Lara breathed.

“War brings out parts of yourself you wish weren’t there.” Lucia muttered, “But in the end, they do make us stronger.”

Lara let out a shaky breath before following Lucia as she walked into town.

____________________________________________________________________

Lara entered the local tailor’s shop wearing her very conspicuous leaf dress and holding fifteen Knurrins.

A stout man wearing clothing a bit more luxurious than a commoner’s clothes was busy measuring and cutting fabric behind the wooden counter. He glanced up at her and furrowed his brow.

“Did that bastard Delius send you? Comparing my clothes to cobbled together debris, huh?” The tailor asked.

“Wh-what? No.” Lara shook her head.

“Then what’s with the getup?”

“It’s, ah…the latest noble fashion.” Lara said.

The tailor didn’t hesitate to spit at her, “Noble? Bugger off you Atrellian hound! Your kind makes a mockery of my art.”

“Okay, listen, that’s just an excuse I used to get past the guards.” Lara blurted out.

“Get past the guards?” The tailor asked with a calmer tone, “Fugitive?”

Lara nodded, “I have a startling likeness to Lara Shawe.”

“Shawe...I know that name. Relatives of the whoreson running Maladeth. Don’t know a Lara, though.”

“I need some real clothes.” Lara offered the tailor a half smile.

“Well you’ve come to the right place. What kind are you looking for?” The tailor asked.

“Er, something easy to travel in. But not too itchy.” Lara said.

“How about some leather? And maybe a nice blouse.” The tailor paused, “I’m thinking given your current position, you’re also in need of undergarments.”

Lara nodded sheepishly.

“Not to worry. My wife can help you out. Helena!” The tailor shouted.

“What?” An equally loud female voice called from behind the shop.

“We got a girl!”

“I’m busy, Aelus! Do it yourself!”

“With what? If you’re working with your palette again, this’ll only take a minute!”

“Fine!”

A young blonde woman poked her head out from the back, wrinkling her nose at Lara.

“Don’t ask about the leaves.” Aelus said, “She needs a full set.”

“Er...the black riding pants, cotton blouse and a gambeson jacket. A nice cotton for the unspeakables and some riding boots.” Helena said before retreating into the back of the shop.

“Palette...does your wife enjoy painting?” Lara asked.

“Oh, more than enjoys, lass. She’s a chromatist. Figures out the best color combinations for my craft. And she makes a hell of a living off it.”

“She makes money?”

“She did, at least. What about it?” Aelus asked as he grabbed the pieces of clothing his wife had picked out.

“It’s just…I’m an Atrellian criminal. Our women don’t work there, save for the odd Noblewoman.”

“You all have that ‘everyone has their place’ thing. My wife has to provide her service on the black market now ‘cause those damn sea people won’t let her run a business.” Aelus spat.

“Does that have something to do with the lack of people outside?” Lara asked.

“Something? Lass, it has everything to do with that. I can’t settle my differences with that hack Delius. So I don’t go outside. Bastard just does it for the money. No artistry in it.”

“When you say settle your differences…”

“I mean the next time I see him, I’m gonna wring the breath from his neck.” Aelus set the clothes on the counter, “The Atrellians won’t let us fight for ourselves.”

Lara furrowed her brow.

“Things in Emreth are different from Atrell, lass. We’re fighters. Pretending to be all happy with each other prevents us from being better, so when some bastard wrongs us, we beat the ever living shit outta him.”

“I guess I can understand that. Kind of.” Lara said, mainly not wanting to offend the tailor.

Aelus brought her over to a mirror and tried to ensure everything was sized correctly, “That should be good.”

“How much do I owe you?” Lara asked.

“You know what? I’ll give it to you free of charge if you go by Delius’s shop and send some of his customers my way.” Aelus grinned.

“Really?”

“Whatever it takes to put him out of business for good.”

“Th-thank you.” Lara stammered, “I’ll head over there as soon as I can.”

As Lara made her way out of the shop, Aelus called out, “But remember lass, you cross me and I ruin you!”


	8. Chapter 7: Bronduk's Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund continues to survive in the midst of Atrell's war with Morgaul. But his experiences elicit something from within him he'd never known was there.

When they weren’t running to their deaths as meat shields, Edmund found the menial labor the Snakes were forced to do almost worse than the fighting.

Of course, during the fighting he had an ocean of adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was no life or death situation for looting armor and weapons off fallen bodies. He and few others were sentenced to wander the bloody battlefield in search of usable supplies and arms.

The evening sun in Morgaul burned like the afternoon sun on a summer day in Atrell. His lips were parched, having only drunk a single cup of water that day. His stomach demanded more food with voracious, almost violent growls.

Edmund, like the other Snakes, was caked in dirt and sweat, gaining a new layer of skin built from dust.

He bent down to pull a hardened hide vest off of a Morgaul warrior. It was big enough for the eight-foot tall monster, but ridiculously large for any Atrellian man. He stripped the fallen warrior of his bow, his sword and a knife, setting them aside before he started pulling off jewelry.

Nearly all the Morgauls had jewelry made out of some kind clear crystal, whether it be necklaces, bracers, ties for their long black hair. Edmund pulled a golden bracer off the warrior’s right arm.

Could he do something with the gold? Would the Atrellian supervisors notice? Was it even real?

Edmund could answer one of those questions. He bit down on the bracer.

“Ow, shit!” Edmund jerked back. One of his teeth had clamped down on the polished crystal in the center of the bracer, cracking it slightly. He spat, attempting to spit out whatever part of the rock had gotten in his mouth.

Then energy flooded into him.

Edmund jerked up. It was a very small amount, but he could feel a power source within him as though he’d eaten a fraction of a God Shard.

He looked back down at the stone. The closer he looked at it, the more it seemed as though it had a slight glow to it.

 _Is this what God Shards are made of?_ He wondered.

Edmund used his small amount of power just to make sure. He took the scarce amount of water in the air and formed a small cube of ice between his fingers. It was real. And the energy he’d used seemed...more potent than a typical Godshard.

Edmund popped the ice cube in his mouth, savoring the chill sensation it brought to his overheated body.

He then took the rock out of the bracer, pocketing the crystal. He took a few other pieces of the same rock from jewelry he collected. A few pendants, a pair of earrings.

“What’d you find, food?” Edmund threw the smaller stones into his mouth the moment he heard the voice. He whirled around to find Pasco before rolling his eyes.

Edmund shifted the rocks under his tongue, “Where in the hell would I find food? I just wondered if I could do anything with some gold.”

“Oh, they’ll be looking for that stuff. I wouldn’t.”

“The last person I’m taking advice from is you.” Edmund growled, “Though I suppose you have a point.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about ratting you out, alright? Being a grump all the time won’t help you.” Pasco sighed, “They promised on the Citizen’s Code to lessen my sentence.”

“And did they?” Edmund asked.

“N-no…” Pasco muttered shamefully.

“That’s because once you’re a Snake, the Citizen’s Code doesn’t apply anymore. We’re a class of slaves.” Edmund said.

“Well, I know that now.” Pasco huffed, “The Atrellians are always shown to be these virtuous and charitable people who give to the poor and fight against evil. But they're just as messed up as every other country.”

“Where do they say that?” Edmund asked, picking up his haul of supplies and bringing them over to a wagon nearby. He spit out the rocks and hid them while Pasco responded.

“Rondhaven.” Pasco said, “I was born there before they were annexed into the Empire.”

“Ah, Atrell’s concubine of a puppet state.” Edmund nodded.

“I do suppose my homeland always was rather biased towards Atrell.” Pasco muttered.

“What were you arrested for?” Edmund asked.

“Partly for not having a permanent residence.” Pasco scoffed, “I was a traveling bard! I didn’t have a home! Or want one!”

“And they sent you to the front lines of Morgaul for that? Atrell has a messed up justice system, but not that messed up.” Edmund frowned.

“Oh, no. The main crime was for performing _Sir Hybald and the Seraph_.” Pasco said, “Apparently it’s sacrilege.”

“Well, it does make the Knight seem very human at times. I don’t think a perfect savior would try to bed his guardian angel.” Edmund chuckled.

“You see, it’d be human if he failed. But no! Apparently he succeeded! If that’s not superhuman, I don’t know what is.” Pasco exclaimed.

Edmund grinned, “I can’t argue with that.”

“See? I knew you’d change your mind about me!” Pasco smiled.

“Hm. You can think that if you want.” Edmund muttered.

“Say, I’ve seen you on the field before.” Pasco said, “Why do you fight so hard? I mean most of us just play dead once the real soldiers get in there. But you just keep going.”

Edmund shrugged, “I wanna survive.”

“If all you cared about was survival, you’d be like us.” Pasco asserted.

Edmund sighed, “I don’t know. I just feel like I need to keep fighting. Like if I don’t, something bad is gonna happen and it’ll be my fault. What’s it to you, anyways?”

Pasco shrugged, “Just thought you could be an interesting character for a ballad.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow, “Why do you keep writing songs? Without paper.”

“It’s my passion.” Pasco said, “Even if I didn’t write them consciously, I’d start making up songs in my head. Though I can’t deny that part of me hopes I’ll get outta here one day. And when I do, I’ll need a whole new retinue of songs.”

Edmund frowned. What would he do if he ever got out. It’s not like he could just go back to Ivanderton and start stealing again.

“What about you?” Pasco asked.

Edmund shrugged, “I don’t know. I’ve more or less just stolen stuff all my life. And when I’m not stealing stuff, I’m planning about how to steal stuff. I’ve never really had time for passion.”

“Well you seem to be pretty good at fighting like a soldier for a thief.” Pasco said.

Edmund chuckled, “That’s just some stuff I picked up from my father.”

“Was he a soldier?” the bard asked.

Edmund shook his head, “He would’ve rather killed himself. He became a rebel when I was young. Hated the war.”

“Well then he was a smart old man, I’d say.” Pasco said, “Most don’t even know what we’re fighting for aside from vague notions of morality.”

“Not only that, but no actual Atrellians are being thrown onto the front lines. They’re just sending the Suden peoples out to die.” Edmund gritted his teeth.

“I reckon it won’t be much-“

“Get back to work!” Warren screamed from a ways away, “Or else go hungry until tomorrow night!”

Edmund sighed and started pulling armor off another dead soldier. As much as he wanted to hate Pasco, he couldn’t deny that it felt nice to have someone to talk to. Perhaps he could forgive.

And while he worked, he slipped more stones into his pockets.

____________________________________________________________________

Edmund cracked his eyes open, As he sat up, he glanced at his feet. They were still scraped bare and blistered from the three days’ march he and the other Snakes traversed.

Atrell was going on the attack and they needed their slave infantry.

He rolled over on his sleeping mat and reached for the bottle of whiskey he’d spent his wages on. It was...more empty than it was when he went to sleep. There was barely any left. Edmund drank the remaining alcohol, relishing the burn in his chest.

He glanced over to Pasco. He was the only other one in the tent. Edmund slammed the bottle against the ground, startling the blonde man awake with the shattering glass. He threatened Pasco with the jagged edges of his broken bottle.

“You’re just asking for scars at this point.” Edmund growled.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Pasco shouted, “I didn’t drink your booze, I swear! I mean, I don’t even like whiskey!”

Edmund narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, fine. I drank some, but it was for your own good! I mean, seriously? At least it’s not beer, but still…”

“You’re losing me, corn locks.” Edmund snarled.

“Alright, alright. No need to get...violent. Frankly, you’re a wreck. The last thing you need is more booze.”

“Life is already a living Abyss. I don’t have the patience to bond with anyone except a bottle.”

“Well, look on the bright side. No march today.” Pasco raised his eyebrows as if this was a good sign.

“It just means we march into battle today or tomorrow.” Edmund muttered.

“Oh...right.” Pasco said sheepishly. Did he seriously not realize that until now?

Edmund smacked his lips, “Gods it’s too dry here. Why the hell does Atrell even want this wasteland?”

“I heard the Morgauls have a special relic buried somewhere in their land. Some reliquary of Bronduk.” Pasco shrugged.

“That is...possibly the most stupid reason to go to war with an entire race I’ve ever heard.” Edmund pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Nations have done worse for less.” Pasco pursed his lips.

“I’m getting breakfast.” said Edmund, leaving his tent.

After a morning meal of gruel, Edmund started working in front of his tent with his spear. He’d been teaching himself through trial and error to make the spear less unwieldy in his hands. Though, he would always prefer a knife. Or a sword if it had to be a warrior’s weapon.

His day went by rather normally, though influenced by the intense pressure of a possible call to arms.

The Empire was attempting to take hold of a fort that was the main center for exchanging messages across the Steppe.

The Atrellians would no doubt try to intimidate the Morgauls into surrender, but from Edmund’s short hands-on experience with them, surrender was worse than death to them.

It happened in the middle of his dinner.

The bellowing of horns echoed across the camp, calling the army to lines up facing the enemy.

Edmund stood from his meal and ran to the front line, scoring one of the further back lines of the Snakes. The later you were, the further up you’d be.

The vast majority of the current Snakes were brought in from recent shipments. All the men who’d died before were simply replaced.

Though, there was no call to attack. This was part of the intimidation.

While they were standing around, waiting for something to happen, Edmund saw one of the soldiers running up a column of Snakes, demanding their spears from them. Edmund furrowed his brow while the soldier, along with some help, put the burden of a giant wooden ladder onto all ten in the column.

Of course. This wasn’t a battle. This was a siege. Edmund’s eyes widened. They wouldn’t be armed. They were ladder rushers. Prime targets for archers.

All of the Snakes looked at each other, but said nothing. They were all thinking the same.They were going to die for sure. As if their current situation didn’t guarantee their deaths enough. For sure, their fates would be sealed the moment they decided to charge.

Eventually, Edmund was forced to relinquish his spear and have one tenth of a giant ladder’s weight put upon him.

“Pay attention, Snakes!” Lieutenant Warren shouted, “When we charge tonight, your job is to put these ladders you’re holding on the walls of the fort. After that, you’re on your own.”

Just as he finished speaking, as if on cue, the horns bellowed.

“Charge!”

“Move it, Snakes! Go! Go!”

Edmund felt himself pulled along by the other Snakes carrying his ladder, barely touching the ground to keep his balance.

With the infantry right on his tail and surrounded by cavalry, Edmund ran towards their target.

The fortress was situated on a small hill, surrounded by limestone walls. Splinters from the ladder pricked Edmund’s white knuckled grip as they approached the fort as fast as the runners could get themselves there.

A cloud of flaming arrows soared overhead in the clear night sky, raining down on the cavalry.

A flurry of battle cries surged onto the field like roaring water as the fort unleashed a horde of Morgaul horse archers. Arrows started to whiz by in Edmund’s general area, dropping two men on his ladder and making the load much heavier.

However, the cavalry was able to interfere with their attacks on the Snakes. Only a bit more…

Edmund’s momentum kept him going once they got in position, helping to push the ladder up onto the wall, a hinged bit on the end, hooking onto the battlements.

Arrows rained down onto the Snakes, scattering them. A flaming arrow cut Edmund’s arm and lit his rags alight. Edmund beat down the embers while trying to escape the archers’ sights.

A boulder covered in flame streaked across the sky from within the fort, dealing an explosive blow to the infantry’s formation.

They soon broke off and charged for the ladders, leaving Edmund and the rest of the surviving Snakes in between.

He took off to his left, ignoring the searing sensation in his calves and cramps that stabbed at his sides.

As he ran, he caught sight of Pasco, keeping himself flattened against the wall and heaving like a dog.

Edmund ran by, grabbing his wrist just as a Morgaul archer fired an arrow through an inconvenient machicolation.

“By gods, what are you-”

“Come on, you idiot!” Edmund shouted.

Dragging Pasco with him, for reasons neither knew why, Edmund went around the denser parts of the advancing army and retreated towards the siege engines until they got within range of a Spark Pylon.

They were massive metal poles on wheels, being pushed by Sparkers. Their Stormflers were channeled into the poles, creating giant magnets that drew incoming iron tipped arrows from the siege engines and heavy infantry.

Though, they weren’t perfect. One of the Sparkers caught a flaming arrow to the throat, collapsing to the ground and being replaced by another of his kind. Not even Flerfingers were given value to their lives.

Edmund collapsed in the sand next to the dead Flerfinger, grabbing the corpse’s waterskin and taking all its contents for himself.

“We’re alive. Champions and Gods, we’re alive!” Pasco shouted.

Edmund didn’t respond. He was so damn tired. It hurt to breathe.

“Aw cheer up, friend,” Pasco squatted next to Edmund, “At least it can’t get any…”

“Any what?” Edmund asked, glancing to Pasco, who himself was staring behind them.

Pasco was looking directly at the giant line of Morgaul riders that had come over a nearby hill. Backup for the enemy.

“Were you gonna say worse? Were you gonna say it can’t get any worse?” Edmund growled.

“Doesn’t matter. That’s a lot of Morgauls. I revoke my celebration of being alive.” Pasco whimpered.

Edmund scrambled over to the dead Sparker, rifling through his robes.

“Now is not the time to be looting, Isley!” Pasco squealed.

Edmund yanked his hand out, holding a small round tin, “You were saying?”

“Can your Flers protect us?” asked Pasco.

Edmund shrugged, “Best chance we’ve got.”

He popped the tin open just as the Morgauls started to charge. He picked out all four God Shards inside and ate them in one bite. The rush of power flowed into his body, rejuvenating him slightly. But more importantly, flooding him with flerical power.

Edmund cast a Truthfler. There was barely any water in the air. He couldn’t freeze any into a protective shield. He could, however, view the routes of the charging horses. Though he would have to be very, very quick about it.

Allowing himself to see the future movements of everything around him, blue specters sprouted off of each Morgaul rider charging at him.

No...there was no way out. One way or another, they would die. Either trampled to death or stabbed. There were just too many of them.

Even when he knew their every move, he still couldn’t evade. There was no running in war. No hiding.

Damn if dying was in his job description. He refused to go down without a fight. He knew from personal experience, that wasn’t how the Isleys lived. Or at least, shouldn’t have been how he lived.

He had a precious few seconds to make up for that.

Edmund picked up the spear, shield and shortsword of a fallen infantryman.

“What’s this?” Pasco asked, his brow furrowing with worry.

“Get behind me.” Edmund said, lowering into a stance. He eyed the leader of the horde, bearing a red banner that signified his importance.

Pasco scrambled to get behind him as the horde closed in. Edmund roared, exerting his will to survive as he thrust his spear forward, right into the leader’s horse.

The horse screamed and fell to the ground, sliding to a stop as the Morgauls flowed around their fallen leader. Many of them fired arrows upon him, but Edmund’s Truthfler was enough to block them with the shield.

The leader staggered to his feet out from under his horse. He was a fair bit shorter than most other Morgauls, taking on a lean figure rather than a hulking brute.

The leader glanced down at his horse, then to Edmund.

The Morgaul growled something in his language before saying, “How dare you! She had nothing to do with this conflict!”

“She was going to trample me to death.” Edmund growled, drawing the shortsword.

“You don’t know the gravity of your actions, Atrellian dog!” the Morgaul roared, bearing his tusks. He drew a far more crude, but terrifying sword of black metal.

Edmund stepped from the path of the Morgaul’s future shadow just before the actual attack came down on where he once stood. He returned with a swing of his own sword, but had his attack parried and received a swift blow to the nose in return.

Edmund staggered back, clutching his now bloodied nose.

It seemed this Morgaul didn’t need a Truthfler to tell him when an opponent was going in for an attack.

Edmund let another swing glance off his blocking blade and slammed the pommel into the Morgaul’s eye. The creature squinted his eye shut, stunned for only a moment before ducking under Edmund’s horizontal swing.

The Morgaul sent a devastating kick to Edmund’s leg, ruining his balance and slashed his hand. Edmund grunted in pain, dropping his sword and clutching his wounded fingers.

His enemy advanced, smacking Edmund across the face with the flat end of his blade and pushing him over with a kick to the gut. Edmund crumpled to the rocks and sand, head spinning and lungs burning.

The Morgaul’s blade blocked out the moonlight as Edmund tried to prepare himself for death. But still, he held out his hand, attempting to shield himself from the blow.

Edmund’s executioner staggered backwards, attempting to regain his balance.

He hadn’t been paying attention, but Edmund noticed something odd within him at that moment. He felt...Commural. The first Well. How?

Edmund had only ever drawn on Kogniirok and Sylvanor. He knew their taste well. But there was this new, unfamiliar sensation in his gut. It was Commural. Intermingling with Kogniirok.

Had he cast a Lawfler?

“Did I…?” Edmund muttered.

“You did!” Pasco hissed from behind a rock that didn’t suit very well as a hiding place.

Edmund stumbled to his feet and to make sure, shoved his palm forward. A blast of invisible force scattered the sands in front of him, pushing his attacker to the ground.

The Morgaul looked up in surprise.

Edmund was just as, if not more confused.

But that didn’t stop him from focusing on the fight before him. Edmund grabbed his sword off the ground and kicked the blade out of his opponent’s hands.

Before the Morgaul could get up, Edmund exerted a constant stream of force down on his attacker. He’d had a long, long time to study the forms and techniques of Enforcers. Ironic to now be using those same moves.

The Morgaul strained under the pressure and Edmund gave himself a short break to look back at the army. It was going poorly for Atrell. Very poorly.

Well of course it was. The Morgauls caught them off guard with a giant cavalry force from behind. But it meant Edmund and Pasco were very likely the only ones who had a chance of escaping the situation.

“Isley!” Pasco shouted.

Edmund’s eyes darted back to his captive just as the Morgaul finished drinking liquid from a small glass bottle from his pinned position.

_What the-_

Edmund blinked and the Morgaul was gone. Another blink and a heavy force collided with the back of his head.

Edmund managed to keep upright after the blow, but turned around to find that the Morgaul was where he once stood.

The shadow of his future actions pretty much vanished at the exact same time the Morgaul did, in a blur of motion.

It was speed. The highlight of the blue shadow made it easier to see, but not by much. Edmund followed him as fast as his eyes could, unleashing a blast of telekinetic force right where he slowed a bit.

The Morgaul slid back, sand and dust billowing in his wake.

The two of them glared at each other for a moment before a war horn bellowed through the battlefield.

“It seems my people are victorious. What is the name of the only Atrellian who has been able to pierce my Galestride?” the Morgaul growled.

“Edmund Isley. Shitty to meet you.” Edmund lowered himself, his guard higher than ever,

“You’re quite a worthy opponent, Isley-karo. Any normal human would have fallen to me just wielding my blade.” the Morgaul said, “I am Dregu. I look forward to seeing you on the battlefield once more. But be certain that I will end you there.”

Like that, the Morgaul named Dregu left to join his people while a lucky few remnants of the Atrellian army ran as fast as they could from the field. Edmund and Pasco would soon join them.

____________________________________________________________________________

Edmund cracked his eyes open to the underside of a white tent. A real tent not made of decade-old tablecloths.

He opened his dry and cracked lips to ask for water but all that came out was a hollow groan of dehydration.

“You’re awake...thank Bronduk.” a female voice coming from somewhere Edmund couldn’t see sighed.

A soft hand pressed a full waterskin to his lips. He drank voraciously, downing nearly half of it in a few seconds. He stopped when he started choking and coughing.

He propped himself on his elbow as he hacked until his airway was clear once again.

He was on a cot. A decent one. Blanket, pillow and all. From the look of it, this was an infirmary tent.

Edmund glanced at the woman who had given him water. She was a petite woman, wearing the long, white robes of a Preserver, bearing the Sacred Oak of Sudebron on it in green. She had more tanned skin reminiscent of the Western provinces around Janir and straight black hair, kept short for likely practical purposes.

“Why am I here?” Edmund groaned.

“What do you mean?”

Edmund jabbed a finger at the serpentine scar on his neck that signaled his position as a Snake.

“Oh...er, the Archcaster demanded I heal you.”

“The Arch-who?”

“General Thorne’s Flerical aid, Archcaster Elius.” the woman said.

“That doesn’t make things any clearer. Oh, gods...my head.” Edmund moaned.

“What do you remember last?” the healer asked.

“I...I can’t really...the battle...the desert...we were walking for days. Me, Pasco and a few other survivors. I passed out…” Edmund tried to recall.

“Anything else?”

“I...I’m an Enforcer. I can cast Lawflers!” Edmund gasped.

“So the annoying blonde one wasn’t lying.” muttered the healer. “I’ll call down the Archcaster immediately.”

The healer left the tent and a few minutes later, a new face entered. It was a tall, old man who Edmund guessed to be in his seventies or eighties. He had a head of thick silver hair, pulled tight behind his head and a groomed beard on a wrinkled, tanned face.

He wore elaborate blue robes with a golden trim and baggy sleeves that hung to his elbows while his forearms were wrapped tightly in cloth and metal plates. He had vibrant azure eyes that almost seemed to unnaturally glow and a pleasant, yet knowing expression.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Isley.” the man said with surprising vibrance.

“I take it you may have some answers to my questions. Considering I’m not rotting out in the middle of the desert.” Edmund propped his pillow behind him as he sat up.

“I may indeed. My name is Archcaster Gadwiken Elius, headmaster of the Atrellian Flerical Academy.”

“Edmund. Isley. But you...already knew, I guess.” Edmund muttered.

“I heard that out in the field of battle, which you miraculously survived, you stole several God Shards and used them to cast both a Truthfler and a Lawfler.” Elius explained, “Is this true?”

“Where is Pasco?” Edmund asked.

“Safe, my boy.” Elius nodded.

Edmund frowned, “Damn. Still alive?”

“Er, yes. Now about that claim…”

Edmund nodded, “Yeah, it’s true.” He was too groggy to consider the benefits of hiding such a piece of information.

“Would you mind demonstrating?” Elius asked, pulling a God Shard from the folds of his robes.

Edmund furrowed his brow, hesitant to take the Shard. But he grabbed it and popped it in his mouth.

Elius grabbed the waterskin from a small table and handed it to Edmund. Edmund cast a Truthfler, dissipating the water within the skin into a cloud of steam that spewed from the top.

“Very impressive mastery over your Truthfler.” Elius nodded.

“Thanks.” Edmund murmured.

“Now the Lawfler?”

Edmund took a deep breath and focused, drawing on the more unfamiliar sensation of drawing on Commural. He extended his hand forward and released a tiny burst of force, knocking over some supplies.

“Yes.” Elius muttered, “Yes, yes, yes! Do you know what this means, Mr. Isley?”

“Uh...no.” Edmund raised an eyebrow.

“You are a Brondumancer!” the old man grinned, “A Flerfinger capable of casting Lawflers, Truthflers and Faithflers!”

“That’s possible?” Edmund asked, “I’ll be honest, I thought I was hallucinating when I did it.”

“It’s not just possible, my boy. Brondumancers like you are incredible specimens. Especially considering they are among the Pool.” Elius said.

“The what? Pool?”

“The Pool is the selection of people who might possibly be the Knight. They’ve always been brondumancers since Hybald’s first descendant.”

Edmund’s eyes shot wide, “You mean...I have a chance of being the Knight? Like, the Knight? Bronduk’s champion, chosen to fight off the Titans?”

Elius nodded, “You’re one of them, Mr. Isley.”

“But...why would Bronduk even consider me? I’m a Snake! Moreover, I’ve never been particularly reverent when it comes to gods.”

“Ah, but that is our Divine. He works in ways beyond our comprehension.” Elius said, “Perhaps he did this to liberate you from your crimes. To have you repent by serving Atrell.”

Edmund wanted to shudder at the idea of all this steaming pile of divine crap. But what would it mean for him...socially?

“What does this mean for me?” Edmund asked.

“Well, first off, we’ll have to absolve your criminal record.”

“Just like that?” Edmund furrowed his brow.

“Just like that. The Pool is automatically granted Noble status, regardless of birth. We cannot always keep track of Hybald’s lineage. This is simply easier.” Elius said, “however, you are granted that title under the condition that you study your Fler casting under the tutelage of myself and one of my high level students. And that you stay here on the front.”

“I...wow. That is...a lot to take in. I can’t, I don’t-what in the Abyss?”

“I’ll give you a day to make your decision. But just ask yourself if you truly believe a life spent being a sacrifice on the front lines was the one you were meant to lead.”

The Archcaster then proceeded to leave the tent without another word.

However, the mage was soon replaced by a nervous Pasco, who entered the tent with an unnecessary delicacy.

“Oi. Pasco. You alright?” Edmund asked.

“Oh, so we’re showing concern for me verbally now, are we?” Pasco raised an eyebrow.

“It’d be kind of a waste of energy if I did all that fighting and you still died.”

“Right. Yes, I am fine. But, don’t think this means you’re entitled to ask favors of me. I dragged your sorry ass back here all on my own after you passed out.” Pasco crossed his arms.

“Did you hear what he said to me?” Edmund asked.

Pasco nodded, “Just like that, you’re a Noble.”

“Not quite. Haven’t thought about it yet.”

Pasco furrowed his brow, “Why didn’t you accept? This is the deal of a lifetime! If you don’t take that deal, I swear to the gods…”

“Quit your whining. I’ll take it.” Edmund grinned, “But not before I take full advantage of the negotiations.”


	9. Chapter 8: Tialeis's Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara, Lucia and Gammond finish their journey to Emryd territory.

Gammond grimaced as though he had just eaten a lemon after he finished off the small glass bottle of multicolored liquid they had referred to as a Stim.

Lucia, Lara and Gammond all sat around the fire of the camp they had made just at the base of the mountains that started the Ash Rim.

As interested as Lara was to see Gammond finally use his Flerish, she had spent the week thinking about his encounter with the guard.

Knowing she slept but a few yards from a murderer every night made for a bad journey. But Gammond and Lucia were all she could turn to in this place.

Gammond poured several pieces of metal and other components from a small sack into his hands and exhaled, closing his eyes.

The pieces in his hand glowed with a subtle azure light, lifting into the air with some invisible force. The components began twisting themselves around each other and weaving into the quickly formed structures.

It wasn't long before the pieces dropped into Gammond's hands, assembled into three small brass devices. He handed one each to Lara and Lucia.

"This will make sure you get oxygen in your lungs instead of sulfur." Gammond said.

"The Ash Rim is the least of our problems." Lucia said, "Between here and friendly territory is a warzone. We're lucky we managed to find this area without any military presence."

"How do we intend on getting across, then?" Lara asked.

"I could use a Shadowfler to make us invisible, but with no God Shards..." Gammond muttered.

"We'll just have to be careful. Gam can make us some equipment. We'll have to climb. A lot." Lucia said, "We'll discuss it tomorrow morning. I'm tired."

Lucia turned over on her sleeping mat, her back facing the fire.

"I should get to bed as well. Can you put out the fire?" Gammond said as he laid back.

Lara nodded. She grabbed a bucket of river water nearby and poured it over the fire, stamping out the remaining embers.

She then slid under the covers of her bedroll and tried to put herself to sleep. So she waited. And waited. And waited.

But she was still awake.

Lara quietly slipped away from camp and towards the river they'd refilled their water supply on. She hadn't found the time to wash herself since they first arrived on Emreth's shores. Perhaps that would make her more prone to sleep.

Using the moonlight, Lara made her way to the bank of the river. She slipped off her clothes save for her undergarments, leaving them in a pile on the shore as she waded into the clear water. It quickly turned muddled and dirty around her. If only her mother had seen her like this.

Lara dunked her head under, wetting her hair and face. She would need a comb at some point.

As she came up, she heard a rustling among the nearby vegetation. Lara immediately sunk down to her neck and glanced around the banks of the river.

"A tad late for you to be going for a dip." Gammond stepped out from the trees into the moonlight.

"How long were you there?" Lara asked.

"Woke up not two minutes ago." the Ophiomancer said. Lara thought it would be better to just take his word for it.

"Why'd you follow me?"

"This area's dangerous." Gammond shrugged, "It was just as likely to be an Atrellian soldier as it was me."

"I know that." Lara said, "I have half a Godshard's worth of power left. I'll be fine."

"Fine. That's not why I'm here. I wanted to catch you off guard a little."

Lara slowly moved towards the opposite side of the river, "Why?"

"Have you been avoiding me? I mean, as much as you can avoid a travel companion." Gammond sat on the bank next to her pile of clothes, "I'll be frank, I cannot tell what people are thinking to save my life. But I have noticed that you tend to avoid talking to me in...any capacity. That's why I ask."

"Er...no. That's a rather odd thing to assume."

Gammond raised his eyebrows. He wasn't impressed.

"I'm telling you, that's preposterous." Lara tried her best to look offended at the notion.

"I said I couldn't tell what people are thinking. I can still tell when they're lying." Gammond crossed his arms, "Now for someone of your stature, in this particular scenario...you might be distancing yourself because you're planning to give us up to the Atrellians in exchange for your freedom."

"What?" Lara gasped.

"I've seen it before. I'm telling you, it won't work."

"Are you insane? I'd never do such a thing!" Lara exclaimed.

"Don't lie to me, girl." Gammond said, "I can't take the chance, even if you are right. I won't have you endanger me or Lucia."

"I swear, Gammond, I'm not lying." Lara shook her head.

"Why should I believe you? It's in your Atrellian nature to lie. To yourself, to us and to everyone."

"Because I'm Atrellian? I can't help my nationality! So what? Are you going to kill me?" Lara asked, horrified.

Gammond was a far more skilled Flerfinger. She would die for sure.

He parted his lips to speak, but closed them, furrowing his brow.

"Oh..." Gammond exhaled quietly, "That's what this is about. You're afraid. Sorry."

Lara didn't respond, keeping a vigilant eye on Gammond's movements and ready to set her hands alight.

"Listen, Lara. You can't be so averted towards death anymore. That's the simple truth of war. Of life."

"I can't imagine the blood on the hands of someone who thinks that way." Lara pressed her back against the other side of the river.

"It's not a way of thinking, it's just the way the world works. It's kill or be killed. People are selfish and cruel. Especially during war." Gammond said, "The blood on my hands is a puddle compared to the ocean of it that's been spilled by those of noble standing in both Atrell and Emreth."

"Over here, I think." a new voice hissed.

Lara whirled around to the noise of disturbed forest getting closer.

"Killed or be killed." Gammond shrugged, tossing Lara's clothes to her.

She caught them and got onto shore, hurrying to put her clothes on. Looking back across the river, she saw that Gammond had vanished.

 _Damn that man!_ Lara pressed her back against a tree, peering around to see who had noticed them.

Three Atrellian soldiers were clearing out the brush and approaching.

_Shit!_

Lara glanced around rapidly, trying to come up with a plan. She couldn't swim to the other side of the river without them noticing. Could she draw them back to camp and take them on with at least Lucia's help?

No, the Auriok would be asleep. Lara couldn't endanger her. If only she could hide somewhere. But the trees were all pines without stable branches. The bushes were her only option.

Lara, as quietly as she could, slipped into a nearby bush, lying down on her side to completely hide herself among the green.

The soldiers stepped onto the bank, carrying oil lanterns with them.

"Damnit, Ulf. See? Nothing here. Probably was a deer or something." one of the soldiers complained.

"Wait," the one called Ulf said, kneeling down in the muddy bank, "Footprints. Human ones."

"So what?" the soldier asked.

"What if it's an Emryd spy? You know how tricky they are."

"Calm down, Ulf. I'll see if there's any energy signatures around."

Lara's breath froze in her throat. They had a Sparker. Stormflers allowed their users to see reserves of energy stored by God Shards. But if hers was small enough...perhaps they wouldn't notice.

The three soldiers fell silent. Lara squeezed her eyes shut and prayed, which felt odd considering she was branded a heretic.

Lara held her breath, staring up with terror as the bushes were pulled apart by one of the soldiers. Her muscles were paralyzed with fear. The soldier narrowed his eyes, staring directly at her.

"Huh. Nothing here!" the soldiers said.

"What? I thought you saw something."

"So did I."

_What? What in the Abyss? How?_

Lara then noticed it. Her energy stores. They were slowly draining. And there was something new in her. A new Well. She couldn't tell which one.

She forcefully cut off the drain. Suddenly the world became far more saturated and colorful. The greens were greener and the light from the lantern took on a sudden orange tinge. She hadn't even noticed the change before.

The soldiers started to walk away. Lara waited a few seconds before leaving the bush and getting into the river, trying to make her way across as fast as possible.

"There! I told you! Someone's in the river!"

 _Shit. Didn't wait long enough!_ Lara thought to herself as she made waded through the deepest part of the river. The soldier jumped into the river and started after her, though their metal armor made it a longer journey than Lara's.

Lara climbed onto the bank on the other side as the soldiers started to close the distance. Panicked, she ran towards the camp until her foot caught on an exposed root hidden in the dark, tripping her.

She collapsed to the dirt with a dizzying impact.

"Don't move!" The soldiers quickly got out of the river and surrounded her, their speartips pointed at her.

Lara looked up at them, eyes darting around.

She barely had enough energy left to heat her hands.

Then, a shadow leapt from the bushes, attacking the Sparktracker. The Flerfinger screamed in agony as Lucia sank her fangs into his exposed neck.

Intervention from the other two soldiers got her off of him. She leapt back, wiping the blood from her chin. Lara had forgotten Auriok could feed on blood.

Something whizzed past Lara, sticking in the thigh of one of the soldiers. He cried out in pain, a crossbow bolt sticking out of his leg.

Gammond appeared from the shadows holding a crossbow made of scrap metal, twigs and rope. He waved his hand over the contraption, a blue glow reorganizing the device to be a repeating crossbow.

Lucia tackled the unharmed soldier as Gammond opened fire on the other two. Using a handle, he pushed the contraption back and forth, firing a bolt with each rotation. The Sparker tried to wave them away magnetically with a Stormfler, but he only received two bolts in the underarm for that endeavor.

"Wooden stakes, gentlemen." Gammond grinned, "Can't spare the metal."

Lara staggered to her feet.

"Hey, you." Gammond said, tossing her something.

Lara caught the item in the air. It was a small dagger in a leather sheath.

"Finish them off." Gammond nodded towards the two soldiers.

"W-what?"

"I told you it's kill or be killed. Also, this encounter is at least sixty percent your fault. You need to desensitize yourself." Gammond said.

"I'm not killing these men!" Lara exclaimed.

"So you'd let them report to their officers that they found three vigilantes going through the least patrolled area of the Ash Rim?" Lucia asked, holding...something bloody that used to be inside her victim's body. Her face was stained in crimson.

"Why does it have to be me? You two are okay with killing, but I'm not! Please just respect that, damnit!" Lara cried.

"You think anyone's gonna give a damn if you're not okay with killing?" Gammond asked, "The gods don't care! Either you adapt or you die. You don't have time to let the universe conform to your delicate sensibilities. Now finish them! For your sake!"

"I'm not going to-" Lara yelped as a bolt from Gammond's crossbow flung past her. She whirled around to find the Sparktracker falling to the ground, the bolt stuck in his throat. Sparks faded from his fingertips. She would have been electrocuted were it not for that bolt.

Gammond sighed, shaking his head as he finished off the other soldier, "Let's just...go back to camp. I'm not saving you next time."

Lucia and Gammond walked back in the direction of their supplies, leaving Lara to look at the massacre before her.

She had found a new power, or...a new fler. Which implied many things.

But at the cost of three innocents.

The worst part about it was that, despite her words, she didn't find herself caring much about the cost.

_________________________________________________________

The Ash Rim was a mountain range covered in a dark cloud of a myriad of things humans shouldn't breathe. Only a few caves had breathable air, forcing Lara, Lucia and Gammond into them each night.

Even in the cave, it still reeked of sulfur.

Gammond was asleep, while Lucia had left to do...something.

Lara was too hot to sleep. She felt like she was baking inside this damn cave as she wiped sweat off her brow and cast it aside. She'd worn only her baggy undergarments to keep from overheating.

Lara couldn't get the image of those dead men out of her head. Gammond would think her weak for obsessing over the thought of them. She quarreled with herself, wanting so badly to care that they'd died.

If Atrell was good for anything, it could teach the difference between right and wrong. Or at least, most of the time. Murder was an inexcusable act. That much, she knew.

Lucia stepped into the cave, wearing only her breeches and a cloth wrap around her chest to substitute for a top. Her lack of footwear was surprising. The rock was scalding hot outside.

She released the brass breathing device from her mouth with a hiss.

"Why are you still up, Atrellian?" Lucia asked.

"I could ask the same of you." Lara said.

"Irrelevant to the question." The Auriok deadpanned. She sat down on her bedroll, taking out the black ribbon that kept her hair tied in a knot. Her locks cascaded down, much longer than Lara had originally thought them to be. "It's those men, isn't it?" she asked.

"What?" Lara blurted out.

"Those soldiers Gam and I had to kill?" Lucia said.

Lara sank into herself a little, "I know you think me weak..."

"I do."said Lucia, bluntly.

Lara's gaze was cast to the ground.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Lara." the Auriok sighed, "I don't trust you. I don't care for you. I think the fact that you're privileged enough to still be afraid of death means you haven't experienced this world in the slightest."

"Well you don't have to be so upfront about it..." Lara muttered.

"Yes, I do. Because whether I like it or not, you're with us." Lucia said, "Gammond is my best friend in the whole damn world. So if you and him start...latching onto each other, I need to make a few things clear."

"Wait do you think I intend to court him?" Lara asked, "What, with the avoiding, yelling at each other and arguing?"

Lucia shrugged, "I've seen a lot of weird stuff from you humans when you pair off."

Lara shuddered, "Gods. I'm not trying to 'pair off' with him. He's all yours."

Lucia furrowed her brow, then scoffed, "Humans. Get your mind out of the...well, it's a gutter relative to your limited scope. No. Neither of us intend to 'court' Gam. Humans and Auriok don't...click the same like that. What I mean is that Gam, despite his harshness, seems to like you. He doesn't normally talk with people aside from his family and close friends if he can help it. Whether he likes you romantically or platonically, I don't know or care. But I know Atrellians. And they're not to be trusted."

"This again?" Lara frowned, "You dislike me just because I'm Atrellian? How is that fair? I didn't do anything to your people."

"It's not." Lucia said, "And this isn't about what your people have done to mine. Well, not entirely. The problem is the way you Atrellians think."

"What's wrong with the way we think?" Lara asked defensively.

"Alright, why do you hate the sight of death so much?" Lucia asked.

"Because all life, no matter what it is, has worth. Some of us actually have sympathy and dislike it when lives are ended."

"And yet you eat." Lucia muttered, "Everything you eat, even bread was once alive. And it had to be killed for the sake of your survival."

"Which is why we give thanks to Bronduk before every meal."

"People die everyday, Lara. This land, these two continents are rife with famine, disease, war and simple accidents. All of which kill people. If you try to cherish every life, it's practically meaningless to cherish lives." Lucia argued, "I'm not telling you to just abandon everything you know. But I am telling you that Atrellian thinking gets you nowhere outside of Atrell."

"You can't know that." Lara accused.

"I can, because I used to be like you." Lucia said.

Lara blinked, stunned, "What?"

"I was born into an Auriok mine. People in that mine died everyday. Some collapsed from exhaustion, others were taken to the master and never returned." Lucia said, "I thought every single Auriok life down there was precious. They had to be preserved at all costs. I expended every ounce of energy and charity I had trying to help everybody. I almost killed myself doing it. Someone wiser than me just killed the master and solved everyone's problems. Sometimes lives must be taken. Avoiding it just makes things worse."

"That's just one scenario, though. You can't say your argument is right just off an anecdote."

"If you had one child, it would be a blessing. Two children are a gift. Five children are a bit much. Ten children is a problem. Fifty is an infestation." Lucia said, "Death is just a counterbalance to life. You have to learn to be okay with that."

"Every person alive has the right to live those lives. Everyone accuses Atrell of being tyrannical. We may not have the best system, but at least we acknowledge the right people have to choose to live their lives fully and peacefully." Lara hissed.

Lucia blinked, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Sorry." Lara muttered.

Lucia shook her head, "No. I just...never thought of it that way. Perhaps you acknowledge that, but my point stands. If you want to survive, you're going to have to steel yourself."

Lara sighed, "Well, we're just going to have to agree to disagree. I won't let whatever it is you think is wrong with this world corrupt me. I won't succumb to apathy."

Lucia sighed, "Atrellians. At least stop caring enough to go to sleep. We have a long walk tomorrow."

_________________________________________________________

Lara removed the brass device from her face as she tasted genuine fresh air for the first time in hours.

She, Gammond and Lucia had rushed through the narrowest part of the Ash Rim in a single night. On the other side of the mountains, was a massive war camp, sprawling out as big as a city.

Gammond and Lucia were started on the path down the slopes, but Lara couldn't help but look on in a bit of awe at the sight. It was so...different from the landscapes of Atrell. Pine forests for miles, beautiful mountain ranges and giant rivers larger than anything the Isles could handle made up the landscape.

Lara caught up to her companions and remained close by until they reached the start of the field the Emryd army had made its camp on. The air was cool and crisp, even more than Ivanderton, which always had direct access to the sea breeze.

The three of them approached the wall of outward facing wood spikes dug into the ground. Two soldiers dressed in armor whose plates were somehow stained with a black, char-like color. Each of them bore spears and metal plated round shields with custom crests painted onto them.

"Halt!" one of the soldiers shouted, "Who goes?"

Even though Lara's knowledge on Norwyn languages was limited, Emryd had enough similarities to Atrellian for her to understand.

"Major Gammond Hross. This is Senior Captain Lucia Odil." Both Gammond and Lucia rolled up their sleeves to reveal emblems tattooed under their right wrists. Gammond's was more intricate than Lucia's.

The soldier nodded, "Prisoners of war?"

"Yes. Escaped almost a month ago." Gammond said.

"Who's this?" the soldier pointed to Lara, sending a flare of panic through her for a moment.

"A fellow Atrellian fugitive." Lucia answered.

"Any intention to join Emreth?" the soldier directed the question to Lara.

She shook her head slowly, "I'd have to think about it."

The soldier grumbled, "Two days in the camp, but then you'll have to find other lodgings. Go report your presence to the General, Major."

With that, the guards allowed the three of them through.

Lara followed Gammond and Lucia through the rows upon rows of tents the size of houses to one the size of a Nordanian drinking hall. The three of them entered one of the larger tents.

There was already a group of people inside, having a hushed conversation.

A woman, clad in black plate armor glanced up, "Who the hell is interrupting my meeting?"

"Calm, General." A smooth, male voice said.

Gammond nodded, "Apologies, General Auila. Major Hross, returning from enemy captivity."

"Hross. You're under Colonel Gratia, right?" the general asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"We heard the last transport carrying Emryds was headed for Sudebron..." the male came out from behind the general. He was tall and lanky, skin pale from an unhealthy lack of sunlight and had long, black hair that cascaded down to his chest.

"Who are you?" Gammond frowned.

"King Regent Caze." the man said, "Much has changed in your time away."

"King Regent? What happened to the Queen?" Lucia gasped.

Lara frowned. They were before their acting monarch. How could they be so casual?

"She was regrettably...assassinated, just last month. We are trying to recuperate and have all of our covert agents looking for the killer." Caze said, "Because Princess Junia is not yet of age, I must take up the mantle of monarch until Summer."

"I see..." Gammond muttered, "May she be ever remembered. But, er...yes, we were headed to Sudebron. We actually got there and were sentenced to death."

"How did you manage to escape?" the General asked.

"A Nightprince interrupted the executions, giving us the distraction we needed." Gammond said, "We got on a ship and luckily, it was run aground on the Southern border. We came from the Ash Rim just last night."

"The Covenant actually managed to do something useful?" the general raised an eyebrow, "Either way, an impressive feat. You've earned yourself a survivor's mark. You have a month off duty and I'm promoting you to Colonel, along with your Senior Captain to Major."

"Thank you, General." Gammond nodded.

"Don't thank me. You earned it. One question, however. Who is that?" the General glanced at Lara.

Gammond followed the General's eyes, then started speaking in a tongue too ancient for Lara to comprehend.

Lara furrowed her brow, _What is that asshole saying about me?_

The General nodded slowly before turning to Lara and speaking in Atrellian, "Good to have you, Tialemancer."

"Tia-what?" Lara asked.

"You're a Flerisher, Shawe." Gammond said, "I saw what you did the night the patrol caught you. You cast a Shadowfler. I wasn't sure if you knew what you had done, so I waited until we were out of enemy territory. Otherwise, we would've had to sit there for hours answering your questions."

Lara's face flushed slightly, but she shook off the embarrassment, "Wait, so...I can cast Flerishes?"

The General nodded, "Colonel Hross told me you don't have much in the way of Flerical training, so he's going out of his way to use his days off to teach you. But this also means you enter the Ring."

"What's that?" Lara asked.

"All Tialemancers are possible candidates to be the Warlock, Tialeis's Champion." the General explained, "It's your-"

"No need for you to worry, dear." Caze said, "Princess Junia is the Tialemancer. Once she comes of age, she will take up the mantle of Warlock. Royalty is not simply bestowed the gift of Flerishes by random chance."

"I...see." Lara frowned, clearing her throat.

"Thank you for your time, general." Gammond nodded, "We'll organize our own transport back to Imryt."

With that, Gammond and Lucia promptly left the camp, followed by Lara.


	10. Chapter 9: A Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund and Pasco navigate their new lives as nobles in Fort Killigrew.

Edmund was able to walk on his own by the next day. He still had many minor injuries, but they were ultimately inconsequential with the aid of the healing power of Faithflers.

He had been afforded the simple luxury of a real cotton shirt and a pair of thatch pants to wear instead of his rags.

He and whoever had been fleeing with him after the battle were taken to Fort Killigrew, the outpost of the largest offensive on the Morgaul front. In comparison to the camp he stayed at before, this place was like a cosmopolitan city.

The walls were stone, the barracks were decent, even for the Snakes, and organized. An entire keep sat in the center of the fort, unlike the slightly larger tent the leader of the old camp had suffered.

There was an entire yard specifically for storing chariots.

Edmund made his way into the keep, nervously watching each and every single guard until there were too many for him to keep track of. Suffice to say, his thief’s wits were screaming at him to run for his life.

Edmund had been directed to the keep to meet with General Rolf Thorne, overseer of Killigrew, and Archcaster Elius in light of this whole Pool situation.

He approached the keep with hesitant steps, eyeing the Enforcers guarding the front who did the same. But they let him pass.

Edmund entered through the giant wooden doors of the fortress and onto the stone brick floor. It was much cooler within the shade of the building, so much so that Edmund took a second to relish in it.

He found his way to a spiral staircase and ascended to the next floor up, exiting into the corner of the great hall. A long wooden table occupied the room, seating many high ranking individuals likely of the Noble and Kairolist castes. That included the Archcaster and the general.

“Ah, Mr. Isley.” Elius grinned, “Have you thought over my offer?”

Edmund’s eyes darted to the general. He was a hulk of a man, taller than Edmund even while sitting in his throne at the edge of the table. His dark skin and silver-blonde hair made him a native Atrellian. He wore a full suit of decorated plate armor, lined in gold and imprinted with expensive designs.

Throughout the years, Edmund had always been taught to have a plan to deal with everyone he met. When Edmund couldn’t think of one, he put the sensation akin to being naked.

Edmund breathed deeply, looking to Elius, “I have. And I think I’ll accept. On a few conditions.”

“Conditions?” General Thorne growled, “You’re lucky to be standing there alive, Snake.”

“Please allow me to hear him out, my lord.” Elius said.

General Throne grumbled, but sat back in his throne, resigned to the interaction.

“I want the status of Noble and the absolution of my criminal history, as you offered before. But I also want the same for a friend of mine. A Snake named Pasco. Barrack eight.” Edmund said.

“Why you- you’d have us abandon our very values just to accomodate you?” Thorne started getting fired up again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you not want the help of the Knight in your war?” Edmund asked.

Thorne scoffed, “To say the odds of you being the Knight are doubtful is an understatement.”

“What if I am the Knight and I walk away from this deal? What if I lose my head to a Morgaul blade and suddenly Atrell is left without its savior? Are you willing to take that chance?” Edmund asked, smirking.

General Thorne ground his teeth together.

“We can do that.” Elius said, “Anything else?”

“Aside from just Flerical training, I want to be able to use the training ground to teach myself battlefield combat.” Edmund said.

“Why? It’s not as though you’ll be deployed on the front.” Elius frowned.

“What kind of Knight of Atrell doesn’t fight for the people?” In reality, Edmund wanted to teach himself so he could learn to weave his flerical skills into his ability to fight. With his ability to draw on three wells and training, he’d be damn near unstoppable.

Elius sighed, “Fine. But you’re not going out and fighting unless asked to by the general or myself.”

“Never said I would.” Edmund shrugged, “Oh, and one more thing.”

Elius tried to hide the roll of his eyes. Edmund was pushing it.

“A lute for my friend.”

Elius furrowed his brow, “I mean...alright. We can do that, I suppose.”

“Then we have ourselves a deal.” Edmund walked to the Archcaster and extended his hand out to him.

Elius looked at the hand, confused.

“It’s not official until you shake my hand. Not by my standards.”

Elius sighed as he took Edmund’s hand, “You Pious boggle me sometimes.”

“Ah, ah, ah. Noble, now.” Edmund pursed his lips.

“You’d best learn when to shut that mouth of yours.” Elius frowned, “Just because you were gifted Noble status doesn’t mean you can’t lose it. Report to the third floor tomorrow for your first lesson in fler casting.”

Edmund nodded, “Will do.”

With a smile, he turned on his heel and exited the hall. That was certainly one of his better deals.

__________________________________________________________________

“ _Watch, for the skies. Look, to the sun. Nobles, soldiers, quake in fear, your one true Snake-caste savior’s here!_ ” Pasco’s voice rang through the small empty library built on the third floor of the keep as he strummed his new lute, “Hm. A tad out of tune. See if they can’t get me another one.”

“You do it, you bum.” Edmund grinned, resting his on the table before him.

They’d each taken a seat across from each other at one of the three wooden tables.

“I jest, Edmund. I thank you for getting me out of that putrid camp and into some presentable clothes, but I can’t help but think it was all due to the stupidity of the inbred nobles here rather than your bargaining capabilities.” Pasco chuckled.

“Desperation is a useful tool, Pasco.” Edmund grinned.

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Pasco said, moving on to tuning his instrument.

Edmund was about to close his eyes as the doors to the library suddenly slammed open. He craned his neck to see around Pasco as a woman wearing blue robes similar to Elius’s walked towards them.

About time his tutor got here.

The woman was young, just a bit older than Edmund’s own age. She had a tall, willowy build with bright blonde, almost silver, hair that covered a part of her face and was cut off at her mid-chest region. Her skin was fair, but not too pale, reminiscent of the Norwyn Peoples. Her bluish grey eyes darted between Edmund and Pasco.

“Which one of you is Edmund Isley?” the woman asked with a deep, silky voice.

“Well, hello there.” Pasco grinned, “I believe I’m the man you're truly looking for, miss.”

“I’m here to train the possible descendant of Hybald, not reciprocate the dull advances of a corn-haired minstrel.” the woman’s full, navy blue painted lips curled into pitying frown.

Edmund couldn’t help snickering.

“Fine. I see I’m not wanted.” Pasco stood, his chin turned up to her as he walked out.

The woman’s eyes flicked to Edmund.

“Edmund Isley?” without waiting for a response, she introduced herself, “Camilla Veriga.”

She offered her left hand to him, palm down. Edmund looked at the hand, then back to her. He grabbed the hand, but turned it into a handshake.

“Hm.” Camilla raised her eyebrows once Edmund let go, “Oh and please be so kind as to get your feet off the table. It’s disrespectful.”

Edmund obeyed as she proceeded to sit down and prop her own legs on the table.

“Hold on, didn’t you just-”

“I know what I said. But I don’t see anything I should be respecting around here.” Camilla smirked.

Edmund narrowed his eyes into a glare. He couldn’t tell whether or not he liked or disliked this woman. It was almost scary.

“But that’s enough of us displaying egos.” Camilla kept her feet on the table as she lounged, “I’m here to help you cast flers. But first, we go over the basics.”

“Eat a Godshard, draw on your wells, practice.” Edmund shrugged, “Got it down.”

“There’s more to it than that. But I don’t blame you, having not received proper education.” Camilla said, “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’re not a huge fan of the Hierarchy.”

“No mobility unless you happen to be the Knight’s descendant and/or a great bargainer.” Edmund nodded, “Not that great.”

“Well, if you’re such a great bargainer, how about we strike a deal.”

Edmund raised his eyebrows.

“I teach you the real stuff, with all the censored content, and you do a little favor for me.” Camilla proposed.

Edmund hissed, “Ooh. Ambiguous favors. Not great to lead off with.”

“Then you’ll accept the censored edition of my tutelage.” said Camilla.

Realistically, if he went off just what the Empire was willing to tell him then got sent off to war, he would probably die to something he didn’t know how to handle.

“Just...tell me what kinds of favors you might ask of me and I’ll see what I can do with that.” Edmund sighed.

“Fine. When you start listening in on war meetings-and I promise, you will-I want you to tell me what’s happening with the Empire. Just a summary, nothing more. I used to go with Elius, but now you’ll be replacing me.”

Edmund nodded, somewhat suspicious, “Sounds reasonable enough. Sure.”

“It’s a deal, then. Provided you also agree to never speak of this.” Camilla outstretched her hand in a proposition of an earnest handshake. Edmund took it, “Good. Now, lesson one: the nature of flers.”

Edmund sat back, “Should I be writing this down?”

“If you need to write it down, who am I to stop you? Though, when this information will become useful, I can’t guarantee that your notes will be within reach when they’re needed.” Camilla said before starting her lesson.

She cleared her throat before beginning.

“Put simply, flers are reactions of energy. Just like how fire starts when you rub wood together or how an arrow is propelled forward when you pull back a bow string. Flers are just exchanging an input of energy for a different, more physical output.”

“Which is where the Wells come in.” Edmund said.

“Yes, but this is where the Empire starts wanting to cover things up.” she explained, “There’s Commural, which represents order and peace. Kogniirok, which represents knowledge and perfection. Impetellas is emotion and freedom. And Sylvanor stands for acceptance, serenity and harmony. But there’s one other Well: Glorekja. If Atrell allowed this well to be public knowledge, there would be riots everywhere.”

“Why’s that?” Edmund asked.

“Because the things Glorekja stands for are ruthlessness, power and fear. Though, you won’t have to intermingle with that Well. The Wells are combined to give off different reactions.” she explained, “Take a Truthfler, for example: Draw on Kogniirok a tad more than Sylvanor and you can change the state of water. Draw on Sylvanor a little more and see the future actions of what’s around you. Draw on them equally and you can shield yourself from the arcane.”

“I assume you’re a Seeker, then. Like me.” said Edmund.

“You’d be correct there.” Camilla nodded, “Of course, all of these powers come at the cost of Godshards. They have baked into them, tiny specks of dust that belong to a specific kind of crystal called Megyno. That is what gives us our power. Megyno energy. It’s so valuable, Atrell waged war on the Steppe just to get more of it. And here we are.”

“That’s why we’re here? I thought they wanted a holy relic back or something.” Edmund furrowed his brow. He slid his hand over a pocket in his pants, where he’d kept some of the raw crystals he salvaged from Morgaul bodies.

“We just found out about that a few months ago. The original reason was for Megyno. The original excuse was prejudice against the Morgauls.” Camilla almost spat.

“You...don’t like the Empire either, do you? I’d understand a Snake talking that way, but...you have a privileged position.” Edmund muttered.

“I’m a Seeker. I look for the truth.” Camilla shrugged. She took out a golden pocket watch from her robes, “Shit. I’m late. Alright, I want you to practice with your flers until the next time we meet. Just get used to all of them. As a Brondumancer, you can also cast Faithflers, so dip your toe in the water. You’ll get God Shards later.”

“What are you late for?” Edmund asked.

“And practice being less nosy.” Camilla said as she walked out, muttering to herself, “Damn High Casters give me no time. Ten damn minutes for a whole lesson?”

Edmund didn’t tear his eyes away from her until she disappeared.

 _Well,_ Edmund thought. _She’s certainly interesting._

_________________________________________________________

Edmund threw his hand out again. Nothing.

“Come on!” Edmund cried in frustration. Since he woke up, he hadn’t been able to cast a Lawfler. It had come so naturally before. But for some reason it had just...stopped.

He composed himself. He drew on Kogniirok and Commural and tried to unleash a blast of force from his palms. Nothing.

Edmund sighed, throwing his hands into the air. What in the Abyss was his problem? Why couldn’t he cast the Lawfler?

As great as living as a noble was objectively, he didn’t feel as though he was any happier than he was as a Snake.

_What are you talking about? At least you’re not being thrown into combat practically defenseless every week._

But the others were. Pasco and Edmund had practically abandoned the Snakes. He doubted they would blame him, as most of them didn’t even know who he was, but they still suffered and he just forgot about them.

“Edmund?”

He glanced up as Elius strode towards him, dressed in an illustrious dull green robe. He was somehow able to look rich and poor at the same time. He carried himself on his staff and seemed to never tend to his white, frizzled hair.

“I could hear you from the keep.” The Archcaster chuckled.

Edmund flushed slightly, “Oh. Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s good I could hear you struggling. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to help you.” Elius smiled, “Trying to cast a Lawfler?”

Edmund nodded.

Elius approached him, “Odd art, fler casting is. You wouldn’t think a force of nature to be so heavily reliant on sentient concepts like ideology.”

“Camilla explained that to me a little. I didn’t really get it.”

“It’s alright. The learning curve is pretty steep anyways.” Elius said, “The key to Lawflers is a bit different from the Truthflers you’re used to casting. By getting angry, you guarantee failure.”

“So how do you do it?” Edmund asked.

“Lawflers rely on a sense of stoic authority. Be forceful, but not heated. Confidence is the most important aspect. Perhaps even bordering on arrogance. With more practice, it’ll come to you like nothing.” Elius explained, slowly extending his palm. A visible wall of wind fired from his fingertips, dragging dirt and sand with it, “You try.”

Edmund reassured his stance and held out his arm. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on his wells.

 _You’ve done it before. You can do it again. I_ will _do it again._

Edmund felt the recoil in his arm. He opened his eyes as a small puff of sand settled.

“See? It wasn’t the largest blast in the world, but with more practice, you can make them more powerful.” Elius said, “Try it again.”

Edmund kept his eyes open this time as he willed the energy from his wells through his arm. A modest blast came again, rustling the sand a bit.

“Are all the flers like this?” Edmund asked, “I feel like it’d hurt your brain.”

“Each of them have their own states of mind. Yours is so used to casting Truthflers that it’s going to be hard for you to subconsciously will the wells to do your bidding.” Elius said.

“Great.” Edmund grimaced.

“Don’t despair, Edmund. I know you’ll be able to do it. I used to know your mother. She always said you were a tenacious child.” Elius said.

Edmund blinked, “You knew my mother?”

“Yes. Gyda was a student of mine way back when. It was unfortunate that she died when your father turned traitor.” Elius said somberly, “Had I known you were here before, I would’ve immediately set you free.”

Edmund’s father had joined a significant uprising against the Empire when he was young. Around the same time, his mother died of sickness and his inability to treat her got him caught up in the rebellion. Unfortunately, the rebellion was crushed and Edmund’s father was hung in the process.

“You never mentioned that to me before.” Edmund said, growing a tad suspicious.

“I haven’t found much time to do so. I did say I knew you, though.” Elius pointed out.

“True…” Edmund said, “But still...did you know what I was back in Ivanderton?”

Elius shook his head no, “I was told some close family took you in.”

Edmund frowned. Neither of his parents had extended family. Who would tell Elius that? More corruption, likely. They probably didn’t want a Pious child among the ranks of the nobility.

“It’s unfortunate this war started, eh? Then maybe I might’ve been able to take you in. It’s a shame you had to suffer that way,” Elius grimaced, “But we’re here now, right?”

Edmund nodded, “Though I’ve been wondering. The other Snakes. What of them? Are they just going to be left there.”

Elius glanced away, “It’s not ideal…”

“Shouldn’t we at least lighten up on them a little?” Edmund asked.

“We cannot simply upend the order we have here. Though if you really do feel guilty for leaving them, I wouldn’t necessarily say no to showing them a little charity.” Elius shrugged.

Edmund nodded, “I guess you’re right. War isn’t a great time to make a grab at social reforms.”

“Good lad.” Elius grinned, patting Edmund on the shoulder, “Keep up your practice. The better the war goes for us, the quicker officials can hear out your concerns.”

______________________________________________________________

Edmund lugged a cart with him as he exited a conveniently unguarded entrance to the camp. Pasco’s distraction worked.

The cart in question was full to the brim with stolen surplus food and supplies. Though it had barely put a dent in the stockpile the Atrellian army had saved up.

They wouldn’t notice. Right?

There was a patch in the desert where the land became filled with weather rock formations and cliffs just before it morphed into the grasslands and plains of the Steppe. Edmund thought it would be an optimal place to set up an underground kitchen.

When he arrived, Pasco was already there waiting for him. The minstrel had gone with a rather flashy Noble’s outfit with bright colors and a frilly collar.

Edmund didn’t think he’d ever acclimate to Noble clothing. He stuck with a simple shirt and trousers. However, he did wear a black Noble’s long coat for warmth. The desert could get extremely cold at night.

“Help me unpack all this.” Edmund said.

“Sure. Though, one question.” Pasco said as he approached the cart, beginning to unload barrels and chests of food, “Why are we here?”

“You remember in barrack eight where we’d be worked, starved, frozen and sweat to death all the time?” Edmund asked.

“One doesn’t simply forget that sort of injustice.” Pasco muttered, “but go on.”

“We’re gonna help out the Snakes with the starvation problem. And raise the spirits of a few Pious on the way.” Edmund said.

“So we’re running a soup kitchen. I could infer that much. But we’re Nobles now. We have no obligation to give them charity.” Pasco said.

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily consider this charity.” Edmund grunted, relieving himself of a heavy load, “Charity just fixes a short term problem.”

“That’s precisely what we’re doing, genius.” Pasco muttered.

“Look at the big picture, Pasco.” Edmund said, “How well liked do you think we’ll be for being the only Nobles in camp to give charity?”

“I’d say we’d be liked marginally more, but nothing significant.”

“Add that perk with gathering a bunch of Pious and Snakes in one place and what do you have? An organized assembly.” Edmund said, “Once they’re organized, we can advocate for real change in the system. Especially since the war effort practically relies upon the soldiers. That change might spread back home.”

“You never struck me as the altruistic activist type.” Pasco said.

“I’m not. Seeing how the lower classes are treated, however...that pisses me off. No one is able to earn their place. They’re all trapped. So were we.” Edmund unloaded the last of the supplies on the cart, “My father was executed for advocating for this change. I’m a Noble and a Brondumancer. So maybe I can get further than him.”

Pasco shrugged, “If you say so. But you owe me a favor for providing that distraction. They almost caught me.”

“I know, I know.” Edmund chuckled.

Edmund lit a small campfire as several figures approached their setup from the darkness. The flickering orange light revealed them to be Snakes. About seven of them. Their faces implied they hadn’t yet been broken by the inevitability of their death.

“Are you…” one of them muttered, “Are you the one with the food?”

Edmund nodded, “Take your fill. Bring some back to your barracks as well.”

The Snakes murmured amongst each other.

“Who are you, Noble?” The largest man of the bunch said. He was large relative to his malnourished companions. So, lean.

“Edmund Isley. I’m just a man tired of the aristocracy.” Edmund said.

“Gods that sound pretentious.” Pasco chuckled.

“Hey, screw you.” Edmund glanced at him before turning back to the Snakes, “Take as much food as you please.”

The Snakes started rifling through the food, piling as much as they could carry into their arms.

They sat around the fire, putting the sparse amounts of meat on skewers and cooking them.

Edmund waited, but no one else came to the cliffs, so he sat down with the Snakes. They still eyed him suspiciously. He couldn’t blame them.

“So...what happened to the twenty invitations I sent out?” Edmund asked.

“No one believed you.” A man with dark Janiri skin said, “We only came because we thought we were going to starve to death.”

Edmund nodded, “That’s understandable. I used to be a Snake too. I’d be more than happy to kill any Nobleman who crossed my path.”

“You were a Snake?” The Janiri man asked.

Edmund nodded, “Not too long ago. I was given a title, however. Apparently I’m a Brondumancer.”

The relatively large man scoffed, “And so you moved up in the world for doing nothing at all.”

“I know.” Edmund sighed, “And I hate that. So I have a request to make.”

“You already have everything you could want, Lord Isley.” The large man said.

“Just...hear me out. This is a war front and that means the success of the Nobles here is entirely dependent on you and the Pious soldiers. If we can get the Pious to rebel, maybe there’s a chance you can be freed from being a Snake.” Edmund explained.

“What do you want us to do?” The Janiri man said.

“As a favor for the food, I’d like you to try and get as many people as you can to come to the next event. Just let them know I keep my promises.” Edmund said.

The others shrugged or muttered to themselves, save for the Janiri man, who nodded affirmatively.

“Thank you.” Edmund said, “I suggest you head back soon. The fire’s small, but the smoke will be noticed eventually.”


	11. Chapter 10: The City of Devils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara acclimates to the capital city of Emreth, Imryt.

Lara was sure about one thing: The Emryds really, really liked their stone.

She and Gammond were stuck in a carriage together. Lucia had gone off her separate way to her own lodgings within the city. And while Gammond occupied himself by reading up on the latest happenings in his country via a near daily almanac, Gammond called a ‘news pamphlet’, Lara spent that time looking out into the city of Imryt.

Imryt was the original city-state from which Emreth emerged after the Great Collapse of the Ansam Empire.

Thousands of years of history never before available to the Atrellian public resided within this land.

When Lara had gone through the Ash Rim, she saw just how active the mountains were. They spewed out a constant cloud of ash that blocked out the sun most days. Sometimes, ash and embers would even fall from the sky. Lightning would generate within the clouds as well.

Due to the habit of their forests often catching on fire, the Emreth seemed to have forsaken wood as a reliable architectural material, conserving it for shipbuilding according to Lucia.

Every building within the city was made of stone or clay bricks. Infrastructure throughout the city was made from the same black metal that the Emryd soldiers wore for armor.

“Gammond?”

“Hm?”

“What is that black metal exactly? And why do the Emryds have so much of it?” Lara asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s called Smith’s Bone. But the technical scientific term is Black Steel.”

“We don’t have ‘Steel’ where I’m from.” Lara grimaced.

“Long ago, the ancestors of the native Emryds discovered that putting the bones of their enemies or animals into their iron metal made it stronger. We now know that this is a combination called steel. It’s an overall more effective metal than iron. Black Steel prevents rust, allowing us to reuse the armor.” Gammond said, “However, in weapon crafting, we use this material called Living Steel which- sorry...I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s alright. I should think a Flerisher with control over metals would be an expert on them.” Lara waved her hand dismissively.

“On the topic of apologies, I’m also sorry for that night at the river. Not for what I said, but for how I said it. I made an error in my logic, thinking forcing you to kill someone would magically make you okay with it.” Gammond said sheepishly.

“I forgive you. I know you were just thinking of my well being.” Lara gave him a smile, “You’re pretty selfless for an Emryd, you know?”

Gammond raised an eyebrow.

“No offense…” Lara broke eye contact with him.

“One thing to learn if you plan to stay here is that where you’re born, who you’re born to and how you’re born doesn’t dampen your ability to be selfless or selfish. I will admit, though, that sometimes we can be hypocritical when it comes to the Atrellians. We don’t really mean it. Or at least, I don’t. That being said, most Emryds believe selflessness is a lie. I don’t myself, but I understand their perspective. And thank you.”

“What do you mean Emryds don’t believe in selflessness?”

“From a certain perspective, every action is selfish. Sacrificing yourself or your time or giving of yourself may just be an act done out of a desire to gain some kind of significant meaning to one’s life or because doing so makes them feel good about themselves.”

“So you all just focus on yourselves?”

“For the most part. But that being said, no Emryd I’ve met really thinks self interest is a bad thing. We still do things for one another. But on a far smaller scale.”

“No charities? No social programs?”

“We have plenty of charities. But, when it comes to social programs...most people dislike even having to pay trade taxes. Introduce more government regulation and there’d be riots.”

“It sounds like the Kingdom’s barely holding together anarchy.” Lara said.

“It practically is. Personally, I’d like the kingdom to step in more. At least then, the Territories wouldn’t fight with each other so much. The only reason we’re not at civil war is because everyone hates the Atrellians more. That and the Civility Pact.”

“What’s that?”

“A simple promise of mutually assured destruction if someone infringes on someone else’s private property. The Kingdom does what it can to uphold it, but it really only applies seriously to corporations and rulers of the Territories.”

“You’re making Atrell sound like a utopia.” Lara scoffed.

Gammond shrugged, “Most people like it this way. The strong are always on top, but who the strong are is always rotating. Free trade lets anyone be on top. And it makes us stronger. Luckily, the Queen’s death won’t do much to the political landscape. This war would end really fast if we were as centralized as Atrell. It’s been good for Emreth.”

“The war? How is war good for a nation?” Lara asked.

“It’s good for me. Now more people see the benefit of a slightly stronger government. The richer the government is, the more weapons and arms they’ll be able to buy and rent from private businesses. Stimulates the economy.”

“But thousands have died.”

“Meaning thousands of jobs become available and the survivors are stronger. People are more proactive and have better connections. It’s simply better for all of us.”

“Bronduk’s thumbs, that way of thinking is weird.” Lara shook her head.

“We call that culture shock.” Gammond said, before suddenly exclaiming, “Kuiel’s out of business? Yes!”

“What?”

“Oh, gods, that man is finally off my block. I run a workshop that used to be part of my family’s company. The moment I went independent, Kuiel showed up boasting lower prices than mine. Turns out he’s not as good as my apprentices, though. Those low prices didn’t save him.”

“You run a business? I thought you were a soldier.” Lara frowned.

“I was drafted, since our volunteer military is so small. Every small business has to send at least one fighter. Unfortunately the Territory lords enforce that one on the Kingdom’s behalf.” Gammond sighed.

“Are we headed for your shop then?” Lara asked.

Gammond shook his head, “Hell no. My apprentices are going to beg for me to start working again. Plus I don’t have any room in my residence there. We’re going to my family’s home. It’s not exactly an estate, since they funnel all their money into the company, but the house is cozy enough.”

“What about that King Regent guy? What’s his deal?” Lara asked.

Gammond shrugged, “Likely one of the Queen’s relatives.”

“I don’t trust him. His presence is just...off putting.”

“Good thing you can’t get arrested for insulting high officials.” Gammond chuckled.

At that moment, the carriage stopped.

“That was quick.” Gammond muttered, “We’re here.”

Gammond opened the door to the carriage, allowing himself out and letting Lara open it herself. She had to remind herself not to think of them as uncultured. Her Atrellian schooling was full to the brim with propaganda. She knew that. She spent her youth picking it out.

Gammond was right about the house. It was no manor or keep, but it was certainly more than big enough for a family. It was surrounded by a defensible wall and black steel gate. Though, once Gammond unlocked it with a key he created from a piece of scrap metal, she could see the house in full. It was a wide, two-story building with its own patch of property and triangular roofs made from clay tiles. Its structure was very asymmetrical and its walls were covered in some kind of pale yellowish plaster.

A small garden sprawled out from beneath the large windows on either side of the front. Atrellian keeps never had too many windows. It would compromise the defensibility of the structure.

Gammond stopped Lara just before they stepped up to the door, “Before we enter, I don’t know who’s currently home. I must warn you: my family can be a bit...much.”

Lara scoffed, “With my family life? I can take it.”

“Good attitude. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Gammond said before opening the glass and steel door.

They stepped onto tiled floors. Before them sat the staircase to the second floor, which was revealed by an overhanging balcony with metal railing.

Gammond cleared his throat, “Hello? Mother? Father? Zinovia? Takis?”

“Gam?” the voice of a young boy called from the second floor. Lara glanced up to the source, who essentially looked like a seven year-old version of Gammond with his hair grown out, “Ma! Gam’s back from the war!”

The child almost tripped over himself running down the stairs as he rushed to give Gammond the largest hug his tiny body could manage. Lara chuckled as his fervor and Gammond’s somewhat startled expression.

“Since when do you hug people, Takis?” Gammond asked, grinning.

“Gammond?” a door off to the right opened, revealing a staircase downwards and a middle-aged dark skinned woman with greying hair. The woman rushed over to Gammond and joined Takis in hugging Gammond.

“Oh, mother. Hello.” Gammond muttered, “You’re all a little..close.”

“Gammond, we were so worried!” his mother cried, “One of the soldiers came to tell us you’d been captured!”

“Well, here I am. Safe and sound.” Gammond tried to subtly push his family away from embracing him to little effect.

This was considered ‘much’ for him? Lara found that slightly depressing.

“How’d you escape?” Gammond’s mother asked, “And who’s your companion?”

“This...is Lara Shawe. She’s one of the people who helped me escape.”

The mother immediately transferred her grip on Gammond’s body to Lara’s hands, “Thank you, miss. Whatever payment you’ll take, we’ll do our best to provide.”

“O-oh, I don-”

“She’ll stay here with us for a few weeks so I can give her some Flerical lessons. That alright, mother?” Gammond interjected.

“Of course, miss. You’re welcome in our house anytime. Unless, of course, you violate the Pact. But other than that, we’re happy to have you.” the mother offered a broad grin before finally freeing Lara’s hands.

“Mother, have you seen Zinovia? I’m sure she’d be the most worried about me.” Gammond said, finally getting Takis to release him.

“Your sister started her own offshoot of the company just last month, actually. She’s still at work.”

“Is everyone in your family a business owner?” Lara asked Gammond, chuckling slightly.

“ _Brurpi fav gran ei brurpi fav aydhika._ ” Gammond uttered in old Emryd, “‘Working for someone else is only a step in working for yourself.’ Common Emryd wisdom.”

“You’re not familiar with Mistress Daruia’s work?” Gammond’s mother asked.

“I’m, uh...from Atrell originally, Lady Hross. They like to teach about cooperation and service of the people. They like it a lot.” Lara muttered.

“Well, as an Atrellian criminal, I hope Emreth holds up what you want in life a lot better than the imperials. And it’s Missus Hross. Or, you know? Just call me Korinna, dear.”

“R-right. Sorry, Korinna.”

“No need to apologize. You and Gammond are free to start on dinner if you wish. My partner and daughter are due to be home within ten minutes.”

Lara cocked her head.

“We cook our own individual meals here. Come, I’ll show you around.” Gammond offered, causing Lara to sigh in relief. She had next to no cooking ability. That was typically a servant’s job.

She followed Gammond to the right side of the first floor, where a large kitchen setup had been placed as well as a row of several metal pots.

Gammond removed the glass lid off one of the pots. In actuality, the structure was two pots layered upon each other with wet charcoal filling the area in between them.

He reached in and grabbed a slab of beef. The odd thing is, it wasn’t dried or salted.

“How is that meat…”

“Fresh?” Gammond predicted her question, “We don’t have much salt. Don’t need it. These jars keep the meat cool enough to stop it from rotting. Feel free to grab any ingredients you need to make a meal and when you do, you’ll get it.”

“Gammond, I don’t know how to cook. I’ve been eating hardtack for the past week, if you haven’t noticed.” Lara sighed.

“Get food, cut food, light fire, put food in pan, put pan on fire, experiment.” Gammond said, “I thought you wanted to be a scientist. This is the same thing.”

Lara grimaced. She started collecting a random assortment of meat and vegetables, realizing that the pots somehow were extremely cool on the inside.

In the end, she managed to thoroughly cook a chicken thigh in olive oil and fry some vegetables up. It didn’t smell half bad.

Gammond on the other hand, had cooked up a comparative masterpiece of beef, onions and noodles soaked in a wonderful smelling, yet unfamiliar sauce. As they sat down with their meals, the rest of the family started cooking. There was a girl of about Lara’s age and an older man with Korinna and Takis now.

“They won’t say anything until they're done eating. Focusing on too many things isn’t good for the mind. Also, we can eat whenever we want, so…” Gammond said, digging into his bowl of food.

Lara chose to wait for the rest of the family to finish cooking and ate with them. Though, her food was lukewarm by then.

The moment the young girl finished her food, she slammed her hands on the glass table, which surprisingly didn’t shatter it.

“Gods damn it, Gam, you worried us to death!” she exclaimed.

“I know, Zinovia.” Gammond grinned.

“It’s not funny.” the girl frowned.

“I wasn’t laughing.” Gammond said.

Zinovia sighed, “I, erm...noticed you brought a girl home with you. Find some battlefield lust in you?”

Lara slammed down her glass of water, choking on her last gulp and hacking it out.

Gammond scoffed, “As if I’d let myself be consumed with such feelings.”

“Like hell I am some _lyut_ Gammond picked up on the battlefield of all places!” Lara blurted out in mixed Emryd and Atrellian, “Sorry.”

Gammond’s mother chuckled, “No need to apologize, dear. In fact, we encourage you to speak your mind.”

“I-“

Lara was interrupted by a knock at the door. Gammond’s father stood up and went to answer it.

“Gammond. It’s one of your apprentices.” He said.

“Tell them to leave.” Gammond said.

“Sir! It’s Kuiel!” a young man’s voice exclaimed from the door, “He sent a buncha thugs to the shop! Rea’s the only one there!”

“Shit.” Gammond hissed.

“Gammond, do you want our-” his mother started.

“I don’t need your help, mother. Takis is the only other flerfinger in the family and I’m not confident in the abilities of a seven year old.” Gammond stood from his seat, dislodging a wooden panel from the wall near the kitchen counter, “Lara, sorry to ask, but could I ask you to help me with this?”

Lara nodded slightly.

“Good.” Gammond reached into the empty space behind the panel and drew out a jar of Godshards and a stim. Gammond opened the jar and took ten shards before replacing them, “I’ll pay you back for these later, father.”

“Just lend an apprentice for a while. That’ll do.” his father grumbled.

Gammond tossed five shards to Lara, who barely managed to catch them all. They both ran out of the house, followed by Gammond’s apprentice, who was a young man no older than fifteen.

“Keep close! We’re just a few blocks away!” Gammond shouted.

Lara barely kept herself from losing Gammond among the sea of pedestrians. They broke through a small crowd that had surrounded a ruined storefront. In the street stood a young girl, wildly swinging a spear around as three well armored and armed men advanced on her.

Gammond threw his head back, downing the stim in his hands before reaching his arm out to the storefront. Bits of metal shot out of the building, attaching themselves to his arm and assembling into a gauntlet.

He redirected that arm towards the nearest thug as a small hook shot out from the device, wrapping a wire around the thug’s arm. When he glanced back to see what had caught him, Gammond yanked on the wire with both hands, dragging the thug to the ground before sending a kick to his jaw.

Lara swallowed a God Shard just as Gammond tossed her another impromptu device. It was a brass bracer with a small tank grafted onto it.

“There are probably some of these guys still in the shop. I’m going in. Use this to take care of the guys out here.” he said before ducking under a blow from the other two thugs he hadn’t incapacitated.

Lara equipped the bracers as Gammond ran into the building through a shattered window. She cast a Nihilfler, causing the device to activate. A powerful jet of flame spewed from the gauntlet, which she quickly directed at the thugs. Once they collapsed to the ground, she cut off the fler.

“Are you alright?” Lara asked the girl.

She nodded.

“Stay ba-”

“Look out!” The girl shouted, slamming something on her own brass bracer. A shockwave of distorting energy was released from the bracer, sending a layer of ice needles, coming from above, in all directions.

A Truthfler.

“What was that?” Lara asked.

“Shattershield.” the girl said, opening a hatch in the bracer to toss some smoking waste away, “Still a work in progress.”

“Thank you.” Lara nodded before grabbing a blunt metal rod off the ground that likely once belonged to a pipe.

She approached the still recovering thugs who had almost skewered her and bashed them across their heads.

A loud explosion went off from within the shop, sending a figure flying out of the shop and skidding across the road.

Gammond groaned as he staggered to his feet, “Kuiel really put down everything he had for you guys, huh?”

From the shadows of the ruined shop, came a red haired woman with glowing hands just like Lara, a tall and lanky man hidden under a long coat and a shorter man with two handaxes.

“You told me you were decent with a sword once, right?” Gammond asked. He whirled around and shattered the window of the store behind them. He grabbed two dueling swords from the display and tossed a Godshard towards the shopkeeper, “Reparations.”

Gammond tossed a sword to Lara. It’d been too long since she’d felt one in her grasp. It was an Emryd style blade. Much broader than the thin rapiers she’d been used to wielding. But it would make do.

The thin man shed his coat, revealing himself to be shirtless underneath. His muscles started to flex and bulge. Lara swore they were...growing.

Within seconds, the man was as brawny as a fighting bull. Streaks of energy flowed through his veins. A Beastfler. These were rarely seen in Atrell, but the Empire didn’t try to cover up their existence.

“Shit.” Lara muttered, “Gammond, can you crack his fler?”

“Yeah. Take care of the other two. I’ll draw Twig Boy away from you.” Gammond said.

Lara turned to the smaller man and the woman. She unleashed a gout of flames with her bracer, but only as a front to get close to them with her blade.

The man with hand axes deflected her swipe, nearly slashing her face with a follow up attack.

Lara pushed him back with a jet of fire, but was cut off by the force of an explosion. She collapsed to the ground, but managed to clambor to her feet before the woman with the Nihilfler could close the distance.

Lara ran at her as the woman threw a handful of blackpowder towards her. She escaped its range just as it was ignited and slammed the pommel of her sword into the woman’s nose.

Her impact with the ground was enough to knock her out.

Before Lara could catch her breath, something constricted around her neck.

_Not again._

Something in Lara snapped, taking her over. An intense fear unlike anything else she’d felt before. That fear became anger, which became hatred.

_Spetyll!_

Lara gripped the arm around her neck as the noises of the crowd became screams. Her screams, of past and present.

Everything surrounding her became a blur, starting to spin. Time started to speed up, but also slow to a crawl. The vertigo sent her collapsing to the ground.

Her mind was racing with a whirlwind of suppressed memories and a warped awareness of everything. All of it overwhelmed her.

_Where? Where is he?_

As she gained control over her breath once more, the world became more clear. And so did the crimson coating her hands. Her eyes were drawn to the corpse just a few feet away. Her sword lay next to the body of the other man, painted in red.

The body was disfigured beyond identification. One could barely tell the arms apart from the intestines.

 _Did...did I…_ Lara’s hands started to tremble as she looked upon the murder that was undoubtedly her fault.

Gammond’s voice cried for her to stand up, but all that came through was a muffled muttering.

“Lara!” Gammond looked into her eyes and roared.

Lara blinked, “I...what happened?”

“It’s over.” Gammond sighed, “Are you okay?”

Lara’s eyes moved from him back to the corpse. Gammond followed her gaze.

“What happened?” He asked gravely.

Lara shook her head, wetness welling up in her eyes, “I don’t...I don’t know. I don’t know, Gammond, I don’t know!”

“Hey, you’re alright. We won. Come on, let’s get you back home.” Gammond tried to console her.

Lara, despite all her trained etiquette, ingrained suppression and propriety, could do nothing except break down in tears.


	12. Chapter 11: A Rose in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund gets to know Camilla a little better.

Edmund's head fell into his folded arms.

"You're making me shovel Titan shit." He groaned.

"Not familiar with that one." Camilla said from her position of sitting on the table before him, "But just try it again."

"Camilla, I really hope you realize you've been telling me to talk to a plant this last hour." Edmund muttered.

Of the three flers he was capable of using, Faithflers were the worst. Yes, the third ability to heal was powerful, but the rest of it was donating power to others and talking to non sentient beings.

"I really hope that you realize this curriculum is not of my design." Camilla said, "I have no idea how to use Faithflers and frankly most Preservers come off as pricks to me anyways."

"Why can't I just stick with Lawflers and Truthflers?" Edmund asked.

"Because if you want to use Brondumancy, you have to at least be able to cast all three of your flers." Camilla replied.

Edmund sighed and moved his gaze back to the potted plant before him. It seemed as though it had just sprouted no more than a week ago. Edmund's stare intensified as he focused on...speaking to the plant.

He repeated the message in his head with increasing annoyance.

_Hello, I'm Edmund. How are you?_

__

Hello. I'm Edmund. How are you?

__

_Hello!_

And so on.

When he felt his temples start to pulse with an ache, he sat back.

"Bronduk's thumbs!" he groaned.

"Camilla?"

Both Edmund and Camilla looked to the entrance of the library as Elius entered.

"Would you mind not sitting on the furniture, save for that which is to be sat in?"

"Apologies, Archcaster." Camilla replied with unnerving propriety as she slid off the table and into a chair.

The old man was sporting fashionable gold, white and black robes.

"How goes today's lesson?" Elius asked. The Archcaster had been sitting in on portions of their lessons with increasing frequency.

Camilla looked down at the floor in disappointment that she wished not to express. She was clearly expected to complete this portion of training earlier.

"Not well, I take it." Elius muttered.

"Sir, Archcaster, Mister Elius, whatever I'm supposed to call you-"

"Just Elius is fine, Edmund." the man interjected.

"Elius, how in the Abyss am I supposed to talk to a plant?" Edmund asked.

Elius smiled gently and nodded, "Faithflers aren't coming so smoothly? I see. Camilla, is that how you described it? Talking to plants?"

Camilla nodded, "I said communicating, but yes."

"Ah. It is not your fault child. Nor is it Edmund's. It is a fault of the human mind to assume certain things." Elius sat at the table, "It will be best if I explain this portion to him. You're excused, Camilla. Take the day off."

Camilla bowed wordlessly before leaving the library.

"This is actually a good opportunity to explain something vital to you." Elius said, "It is often we assume that when one tells us to communicate, they are telling us to impart our words unto others. But remember, communication is a mutual interaction. So instead of talking to the plant, perhaps try..."

"Listening to it?" Edmund asked.

"Precisely, my boy." Elius grinned.

Edmund nodded, took a deep breath and stared at the plant once more, this time not doing anything with his mind. He was simply waiting for the plant to speak with him.

Keeping one's mind empty was an infuriating process. Each second, his brain tried to shove thoughts into his brain.

After a minute or two, amongst the emptiness, a tingling sensation reached his head.

"Tell me what it says." Elius said.

The plant's presence was definitely with him. It's...soul. If plants had souls. It did not speak to him. Rather, he felt what it was feeling.

It was pleasantly warm, from the sunlight being cast through the window. The soil was of...decent quality. It could've been better, but this was doable.

"It's thirsty." Edmund muttered, "Hasn't been watered today."

Edmund cast a Truthfler, summoning a small amount of water from the sparse moisture in the air and letting it seep into the pot.

The plant felt gratitude.

"You see?" Elius smiled, "Simply open your mind to others."

Edmund let out a shaky breath, grinning, "I did it. I can cast Faithflers."

"One thing people always seem to gloss over is the importance of serenity and your state of mind when casting flers." Elius said, "Faithflers have it in the name. You need to have faith in the power which has been given to you for it to work. Lawflers require you to have faith that you are fighting for righteousness. And Truthflers must come from a desire to understand. Without those mindsets, the flers come much less naturally."

"Huh. I never noticed that before. But...the first time I used a Lawfler, I was defending people." Edmund muttered.

"You see? As Brondumancers, mindset is extra important. We are leaders. We are the people who our great nation and Church look up to for guidance. We must do them that service. In fact, all leaders are but servants of the people. It is up to us to do what is right for them." Elius said, "I do not mean to overwhelm you, but do you understand the weight of that responsibility?"

Edmund nodded.

"Good. Now, I actually came here because I wanted you to accompany me to a meeting that starts in..." Elius pulled a small brass pocket watch out from his robes, "Oh. Two minutes ago. I insist you accompany me."

"Sure." Edmund said, remembering his deal with Camilla, "I'll go."

_____________________________________________________________

Edmund took an observer's seat behind Elius, along with the scribes and consultants who had gathered in the keep's great hall.

General Thorne, Elius and all the other military leaders sat directly at the long wooden table.

The general cleared his throat, quieting the side conversations happening.

"Welcome, gentlemen." the general grimaced, "I regret to report that we are falling behind on two fronts. Not only did we suffer a devastating loss a few weeks ago, but just this morning, the heads of our newest missionaries were returned to us by way of eagle."

As a gesture of respect, the men present each tapped his forehead twice and heart once with his right hand. The women, mostly scribes and maidservants, kissed their two fingers before tracing a circle on their foreheads. Edmund followed suit as to not draw attention.

"But worry not. We will fix this." the General promised, "The Emperor has seen it fit to send us an emergency supply shipment before the winter sets in. It will have on board, small stockpile of Megyno Crystals. One ship's worth. Along with that, we've had several chariots ordered, which will allow us to clash with their cavalry. Other developments on the technological front?"

One of the officers stood, "Sir! We've had most of our blacksmiths focus on creating caltrops to disrupt the enemy's advancement. In our recent skirmishes, we have also taken note that the Morgauls have been increasingly using arrows that are not redirected by Spark Pylon. As such, we've repurposed the metal into armor and weapons."

"I see..." Thorne muttered, "Thank you for your report."

The officer nodded before taking his seat again.

"We need action, men." Thorne said, "We need something to show the Morgauls it will be much harder to trample over us than they think."

Elius stood, ready to offer something, "Sir. If I may, I believe there is a way we can prevent the Morgauls from getting away with such brazen attacks."

"Yes?" Thorne asked.

"My study of the Morgauls has led me to the revelation that above all else, the beasts value their freedom. They relish in the opportunity to die a glorious death in combat." Elius said, "I suggest that instead of killing them, we start taking prisoners, repurposing them into slaves."

"You know we cannot do that." Thorne said, "It would be the utmost offense to Bronduk."

"Then we use them as Snakes in future battles. But the point is, that these tactics will do significant good in deterring them from attacking so often. And their immediate goal will switch from crippling us to freeing their people. We can practically control where and when they show up." Elius grinned.

Edmund frowned. That plan seemed very amoral for followers of Bronduk. More like something he would come up with. No, not even him. It took a higher level of cruelty to even consider using Snakes after having been one.

"You would have us violate the Knight's Code?" one of the officers apparently had the same thought.

Elius turned to the young officer, "The Knight's Code only states that we cannot take enemy soldiers as prisoners. Tell me, did you see any soldiers among the Morgaul ranks? They're all just riders, archers and shamans. Not an infantryman or footsoldier among them. But more importantly, these men will not be our prisoners. They will be valuable assets to our army."

"In order to acquire said assets, we will need to launch an attack of some kind." Thorne said, "Though I like where your head's at, Archcaster."

"The reason we failed so miserably at Meisgemu was due to a pack of riders the locals refer to as the Karo-kunnar. They are the ones who ambushed our forces. However, I was able to trace their patrol patterns around the front." Elius explained.

"Elaborate." Thorne demanded.

"They seem to chart their course based on messages they receive via eagle. If we can find this communication hub, we can take the building and send false messages." Elius said.

"We cannot spare the men for a siege." Thorne sighed, "Our force will also be noticed by their scouts before we make it there."

"Then what would you suggest, general?" Elius asked.

"A small scout team." Thorne said, "One small enough to pass under the radar until they get to the hub. They send a false message to come to a certain location and we face them there. Though, we will need someone that can at least speak their language..."

"My apprentice Camilla is proficient in many Ansami tribe-based languages." Elius offered.

"Then she will go. And why don't we send our new Brondumancer as well?" Thorne suggested.

Edmund snapped to attentiveness. What?

"My lord, you can't be serious." Elius chuckled nervously, "Edmund isn't ready."

"He was on the front lines as a Snake and came back fine." Thorne said, "He should fare better this time."

"Sir, I must insist-"

"If he is not ready, you have a month to make him ready. I want to launch the operation before the solstice." Thorne said, "That is final."

_____________________________________________________________

Edmund pulled on the hood of his cloak more as he walked down the beaten paths of Fort Killigrew. He had made his way into the small makeshift town that had popped up.

A few yards ahead of him, Pasco was heading in the same direction.

Edmund employed his lessons in Lawflers as he approached the gate, pacifying the alertness of the guards. He got by simply by telling them he was going for a walk.

Once he was among the dry rocky plains of the Morgaul Steppe, he lowered his hood and caught up with Pasco.

"You have it?" Edmund asked.

Pasco smiled, opening his satchel. In it, sat several bottles of wine.

Edmund and Pasco had anonymously invited many soldiers and all the Snakes to a gathering outside the camp, offering them a chance to kick back and have some fun.

Of course, neither of the duo would do something like that altruistically. They both needed some chaos after all the monotony of daily life in the keep. Yes, the food was better and the lodgings were nicer, but the only variation in their schedules was how long Camilla spent making snide remarks during lessons.

Alcohol was technically illegal within the Empire's borders, but someone always had some contraband on them. And if soldiers wanted to drink, they would drink.

"Look at that." Edmund pointed to a flickering source of orange light coming from behind a relatively small rock formation, "They've already lit fires."

Pasco and Edmund rounded the formation to see tens of men gathered around in a ring while a Snake and a soldier fought with each other.

Edmund stood on a small rock and cleared his throat, "Oi!"

The combatants paused for a second.

"Single file line, everyone! We can fight once we're drunk!" Edmund declared.

Many of the men cheered, shoving each other to get into a line.

"No pushing, you'll all get at least a shot!"

Pasco poured the wine while Edmund tried to control the crowd. It was a better turnout than they had expected. About forty soldiers and a hundred and twenty Snakes. The Snakes always needed something to ease their pains.

Once everyone had their share of wine, Edmund hopped down from the rock and was handed a half full bottle from Pasco.

"Use it wisely." he grinned.

Edmund gestured with the bottle, "Cheers."

He took a swig, shaking his head out as the bitter substance ran down his throat.

Pasco brought out his lute and started playing a few riffs and songs as the soldier and Snake resumed fighting.

Edmund left, seeking out a particular person.

"You! Janiri man!" Edmund pointed towards the man who had been at his last gathering. He paused a conversation he was having and walked over to Edmund.

"Yes, Lord Isley?" The man asked.

"Were you the one who got so many people over here?" Edmund asked. He was the only one from the last gathering that had shown up.

The man shrugged, "One of my friends is a soldier."

Edmund chuckled, "You, good sir, must have a tongue of silver. What's your name?"

"Djarig." The man said.

"Djarig. I have to thank you for all this."

"Th-thank you, Lord Isley." He muttered.

"How would you like it if I started paying you a salary to raise support among the ranks for our cause, huh? If we want to make any change, we'll need the will of the people. Increasing the attendance by almost two hundred is an impressive feat." Edmund said.

"You'd do that?"

"How does two Knuts a day sound?"

"That'd be incredible!" Djarig exclaimed, "I could buy an extra meal for my whole barrack."

"See to it that the people know who I am and you'll get your payment reliably." Edmund patted the smaller man on the back, "Now go enjoy yourself."

Djarig bowed before going off to rejoin the conversation he left.

That was all Edmund needed to accomplish tonight. Over the course of months, he planned to find talented and intelligent individuals from the Pious and Snakes and recruit them. With his first man employed, he was content to just watch everything happen and let the wine set in.

"You're having a party? How could you not invite me?"

Edmund jolted up, glancing to the right. Camilla sat atop the rock he was leaning against.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"It's my job to make sure you don't kill yourself. Flerically or otherwise." Camilla said.

"Pfft. I'm not gonna kill myself." Edmund muttered.

"Your speech is already a tad slurred, lightweight." Camilla hopped down next to him, "Give it here."

Edmund sighed, but obeyed her.

Then, much to Edmund's surprise, she turned the bottle upside down and chugged the wine until there was nothing left.

"Gods and Titans, woman." he said.

"How else do you think I survive as a bureaucrat of a system I hate?" Camilla asked, "I mean, it's all just legal papers and morality codes. I never get any research done."

"It's that bad?"

"You know, today I had to wait three hours to place a request for just a stack of parchment to write my thesis. They had me sign as many papers as would be arriving for me next spring!" Camilla complained, "We can't even launch another attack because our request for reinforcements has to be checked by, like...six people all over the empire."

"You know what? I like you." Edmund said.

"I'm sorry?" Camilla replied.

"I like you. You're...you're cool." he slurred, "You're like a Snake...but not. Bronduk's ass, did that little bit of wine fuck me up so much?"

Camilla chuckled, "Thank you, Edmund. That's very sweet of you."

Edmund smiled a bit, "Nah, I'm just drunk."

"Oh, come now...you're even blushing. Though, I suppose that could be the wine." Camilla laughed.

Her laugh was a nice one. Bordering on musical, even.

Camilla suddenly let out a belch, "Oh, gods."

"Nice one." Edmund chuckled.

Camilla slapped his arm, "Shut up, I can't help it."

"You know before, I never really gave a shit about the empire. As long as I wasn't caught, the Empire was free to do what it wanted." Edmund said, "But I think I get why you hate it so much."

"And why is that?" Camilla asked, her voice starting a slur a little bit as well.

"Atrell as a society is so...fatalistic." Edmund muttered, "Everyone's born into a class you can't escape unless you happen to be some religious figure's descendant. We aren't allowed to do anything other than what our parents did or what our spouse's parents did. Everyone gets paid the same within their class. It's all so...depressing."

"I think that's the most intelligent thing I've heard come from your mouth to this day, Edmund." Camilla grinned.

"That's high praise coming from someone as educated as yourself." Edmund said.

"You're honest about it. I respect that." Camilla shrugged, "Kind of wish I were like that."

Edmund nodded, "But I'm biased as a criminal. What gave you your ugly disposition towards Atrell?"

"Can I tell you a secret?" Camilla replied.

"Sure."

"Alright, but you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Promise." Edmund said.

"That's not-"

"It's the best you'll get, Camilla. Realistically." he smiled.

"Fine, fine. So, I'm actually from Irakel. Well, I guess you'd call it Greplibleu." Camilla said.

"As in...the giant impenetrable jungle full of savage tribes?" Edmund raised his eyebrows.

"They aren't savages." she said, "The concept of civilized and uncivilized people in general is dumb. But, yeah. I was raised there. No indoctrination, so I can actually think for myself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"The Chruch of Bronduk is really, really good at controlling people."

"But look at all these people. They're breaking the law right now." Edmund said.

"I never said they were perfect at it." Camilla sighed, "How'd you break away from the mold?"

"Oh gods, that is a story. A long one." Edmund chuckled.

"We have time." Camilla rolled onto her side, facing Edmund. It was at that time he noticed how close the two of them were, causing him to burn up a bit.

His heart was beating faster too. Why? He'd never had much of an interest in women before. Survival was more important.

But now he had time to think of such things. And Camilla was attractive.

"I'll put it simply. Long, long ago when I was just a kid, my family up and died. Well, I'm not sure about my sister. I think she's still alive...somewhere. She left a long time ago." Edmund said, "My mother died to a plague and my father was hung for treason. He was a part of Adelen's rebellion."

"I'm sorry..." Camilla murmured.

"It happened before I was even ten years old. It's fine." Edmund shook his head, "but, er...yeah. I was sort of on my own from that point. They tried to raise me in a Church orphanage, but I ran away."

"I feel like that's not everything, but...we all have our own secrets, I suppose." Camilla looked directly into Edmund's eyes. They were practically leaning against each other, their faces only a few inches apart.

Her lips seemed full and soft. Whether from drunkenness or sheer stupidity, Edmund got the impulse to kiss her.

"What's that music coming from?" Camilla frowned.

Edmund glanced away from her. He heard it too. A slow, flowing series of plucks on...a lute. He turned around to see Pasco on the rock above them, strumming some romantic chords.

"Pasco, what in the Roil are you doing?" Edmund asked.

"Providing you musical accompaniment as any good friend should!" Pasco sounded offended, "But if you don't want my help, fine. See if you can get her to kiss you on your own."

"What? Don't be stupid, Pasco." Edmund muttered.

"Edmund, I can see the inexperience every time I look into your eyes." Pasco chided.

Edmund lobbed a rock at him, which got the bard to flee.

"Dumbass." he muttered.

Camilla giggled, "A noble friend, though. Despite his lack of brain capacity."

"I don't even know how we became friends. Or why." Edmund sighed, "Whatever. He isn't too much of a dick."

"Well, this has been lovely talking with you, but I should get back to my bed before I collapse." Camilla stood, stumbling a bit.

"Do you want me to walk you there?" Edmund asked.

"I'm alright, but thank you. I can handle myself." Camilla offered him an appreciative smile, "Don't be late for tomorrow's lesson. See you."

"Later." Edmund waved as she walked off.

Edmund turned back to the party before him and, feeling a hell of a lot more energized, decided to get involved before the night ended.


	13. Chapter 12: A Show of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara gets a full curriculum on her flerical abilities.

Lara never left the room she’d been provided by Gammond’s family for two days except to relieve herself and get water.

She constantly felt sick to her stomach, erasing her appetite.

A knock came from the door, made from clouded glass. It would be one of many knocks throughout the day by Gammond’s parents.

“Lara.”

Lara turned over in her bed. It was Gammond behind the door, his silhouette vaguely outlined in the opaque glass.

“Can I come in?” Gammond asked.

“Fine…” Lara mumbled,

Gammond gently opened the door and slipped inside.

“What do you want?” Lara asked.

Gammond hesitated, “I...I do not know. I am not exceptionally skilled in the area of...counsel. In fact, the very idea bothers me. But...you clearly need some help. I hate to see you like this, so I want to try as best I can.”

“Gammond, there is no ‘help’ for this. I killed someone.” Lara said, sitting up to face him, “I committed the gravest sin possible.”

Gammond furrowed his brow, “What do you mean?”

“What I’ve done is unforgivable.” Lara muttered.

“Unforgivable...by Bronduk’s standards. Why do you still follow that tyrant of a god? You’re here in Emreth. What you did was self defense. Had you not killed that man, he would have killed you.” Gammond said.

“Why do I...do you want me to become some moraless, heartless person whose only emotion is apathy?” Lara spat, “Like you?”

Gammond’s face fell with shock, “Is that truly what you believe I am?”

“Shit,” Lara sighed, “Gam, I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“No, no.” Gammond held up his hand, “If that’s how you really feel, I am not one to deny that.” He sat on the edge of the bed next to her. He smelled of mechanical oil, “But I do want to explain something. We Emreths have a saying. _Krorspeng i mub pli ep_. It means ‘Struggle to find your path’. We should not seek to copy the moral code of another. Your mind may say what you did is wrong, but does your heart say?”

“How can you have morals without a god like Bronduk? That makes no sense.”

“We Emryds follow our own codes of morals. The Church convinces everyone to follow Bronduk’s commands not out of genuine desire, but out of fear and reverence. You yourself have only been talking about your own fate.”

“You’re calling me selfish?”

“Yes, but don’t get me wrong. That’s natural. We’re all selfish at one point or another. That’s not necessarily bad. When we create moral codes along our own empathy, we follow them with true conviction. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself because someone else told you what you did was wrong. What do you say? Do you truly think taking that man’s life was unjustified?” Gammond asked.

“I...I don’t know?” Lara frowned.

“And that’s okay. This world is full of complicated answers to seemingly simple questions.” Gammond stood up, “I did, however, come with a plan to take your mind off the subject for a while.”

“And what’s that?” Lara asked.

“Do you want me to show you what you can do with your flers?”

Lara thought for a moment. She had been eager to try her new powers. But her excitement had been severely dampened. She nodded, “Yes. That would be nice.”

Gammond led her out of her room and downstairs. He deflected his family’s comments and concerns, taking her to the backyard of the property. It was a pleasantly trimmed lawn, with gardens lining the stone walls around the property.

Though the sky was hidden above a layer of blak ash, the sun pierced through as a dim, orange sphere in the dark sky.

Gammond tossed Lara a Godshard, “I’m gonna show you exactly what you can do with your powers. First, the one you’re most familiar with. The Nihilfler.You remember that gauntlet I gave you?”

Lara nodded, “The one that spewed fire.”

“Well, it actually spewed oil. The heat your hands can generate was enough to ignite it.” Gammond said, “That first power is pretty versatile. Not only can you ignite fires, but you can do something even more impressive.”

Gammond grabbed a long tube made from black steel and handed it to her. The cylindrical piece of metal was open at one end and closed on the other, with a small black wire hanging off the closed end.

“This is a thunder lance. It uses a blackpowder concoction we created to one up the Emryd fire chemical one of our rivals came up with. If you light the fuse at the end, the powder explodes, firing tiny metal bits of shrapnel forward.” Gammond said, “Why don’t you try it? Just...keep it away from me.”

Lara held the lance in a comfortable position. She swallowed the Godshard and lit her right hand, pinching the wire on the edge. A spark started to slowly travel up the wire as she canceled her fler and aimed the open end towards the wall.

A loud blast rang out as a jerking force nearly tore the tube from her hands. Bits of metal came flying out of the weapon, chipping away at the wall and leaving smoke in its wake.

Lara grinned.

“Fun, right?” Gammond asked.

“This is really cool.” Lara nearly laughed.

“But that’s just one ability. The second ability Nihilflers have is control over smoke. You can generate it from your palms. Though make sure you don’t breathe in too much.” Gammond said.

Lara held her hands out and cast a Nihilfler, willing the second power out. Indeed, torrents of black smoke started to spew from her hands.

“Careful with this one. It’s dangerous and indiscriminate. It also drains your reserves rather quickly.”

Lara cut the power off. Indeed, a far larger amount of power had been put into those seconds than anything else she’d used before.

“The third ability is a sort of berserk state that you should only use in an emergency. It consumes a Godshard’s worth of power and makes you go insane. I’d advise against using it.”

“Makes sense.” Lara said, “What about the other one? Shadowflers.”

“And Stormflers.” Gammond mentioned.

“I’ve studied that one before. I’ll be fine with it.” Lara said.

“Alright, then. Lucky for you, I can actually use Shadowflers, so you can learn to use them properly.” Gammond said, “the first ability is pretty straight forward. You just go invisible.”

Gammond suddenly vanished into thin air.

Lara blinked, startled.

“Shadowflers only cloak you from sight, though. People can still hear, feel and smell you. But you can use this to counter detection from Sparktrackers. If you go invisible, you’ll be able to see anyone around you using a Shadowfler.” Gammond’s disembodied voice explained.

Lara combined Kogniirok and Glorekja, casting the odd feeling Shadowfler. The world around her immediately drained of all color. Everything was white, grey and black. Though, she could see a pulsating blob of energy in the air, somewhat matching a human’s silhouette.

“So we’re completely invisible?” Lara asked.

“Yep. Not even a slight disturbance in the light.” Gammond’s voice came to her somewhat distorted, “But still don’t do anything extravagant when people suspect you’re around.”

Gammond’s body returned to solidity as he dropped the fler. Lara followed suit.

“Shadowflers have another rather useful ability,” Gammond said, “Illusions.”

An exact reflection of Gammond shimmered into existence beside him.

“They’re only visual and audible, but they’re damn convincing.” He grinned.

“Though, it does drain your stores, the more complex they are.” The illusion said before vanishing.

“It can be anything from a still image to an exact copy of you.” Gammond said.

“Incredible…” Lara murmured, causing a flat blue square to shimmer into existence in her palm.

“The bigger stuff’ll come more naturally to you with practice.”

“It’ll take practice for it to come naturally, so I suggest at least some light training everyday. I can even help you if you want.” Gammond said, “Though, in exchange, I could use your help.”

“What kind of help?” Lara asked.

“As a high ranking officer, I’ll be talking with the enemy a lot more. I need a translator.”

“No you don’t.” Lara frowned, “Your Atrellian is damn near perfect.”

Gammond rolled his eyes, “Okay, I don’t need a translator. But I need you to pretend to be one. That way if ever I am compromised, I have a surprise bodyguard.”

“How often would you realistically need something like that?” Lara asked.

“You’d be surprised. Negotiations almost always break into fights.” Gammond muttered.

“Alright, fine. I’ll be your translator. Even though it’s obviously just an excuse to spend more time with me.” Lara smirked, “But you have to teach me what Tialemancy is.”

“Deal.” Gammond said.

Lara crossed her arms.

“Oh...you mean now?” Gammond asked.

Lara nodded.

“Fine.” Gammond muttered, “Tialemancy, huh? Well, most Flerishes are pretty powerful. Ophiomancy lets me more or less create whatever I want. Tialemancy, on the other hand, I’ve only heard stories. If we could grab you a stim, it would be easy, but we only have stims that work for Ophiomancy. From what I’ve heard, Tialemancy focuses on a mix of ambition, passion and knowledge. Some people have been known to raise the dead. Others have even driven people mad. I couldn’t tell you exactly, but that’s the kind of thing to expect.”

Lara widened her eyes, “Then maybe it’s not such a good idea to just test it out on people.”

“Agreed. But then again, legends are often inflated by hyperbole.” Gammond said, “I’d still only pull it out in an emergency.”

Lara nodded.

“Once we’re done here, I suggest you head to the recruitment office and let them know I want you on as a consultant.” Gammond said, “I-”

“Gammond?”

“Hm?” the Ophiomancer looked up at her.

“Thank you. For...a lot.” Lara said.

Gammond nodded, “What else are friends for?”

“We’re friends now?” Lara chuckled.

“What? You don’t like it?” Gammond asked.

“No, no! I think it’s great. It’s just...you didn’t seem like the type-”

“To have friends.” Gammond nodded, “I know. I normally keep things cold and logical. But this is an exception. I love that passion for studying flers you have. I like knowledge as much as the next scientist, but I’ve never been so...fiery in my pursuit of it. It’s admirable.”

“Oh. Um, thanks.” Lara flushed slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “That’s really nice to hear, Gammond. Especially now. And you...I think you’re a lot kinder than you want to give yourself credit for. I know I’ve had my doubts, but you’re a good person, Gam. Even by Atrellian standards.”

______________________________________________________________

Lara glanced up at the large brick rectangle covered in ivy they called a building with uncertainty.

Emreth had within it, a burgeoning market for ‘flerical gymnasiums’. Gammond suggested she go there to blow off steam.

Atrell never would’ve had a place like this. The Church was the exclusive seller of God Shards and so fueling such a business would be extremely costly. That and private businesses were outlawed.

She entered the building through a pair of double glass doors.

“Welcome to Flerstyle, how may I help you today?” A female clerk said the moment she entered. She sat behind a desk in a relatively small room.

“Erm, hi. I’d like to use the Hross reserved gym for a few hours, please.”

“Access pin?” the clerk slid a piece of paper toward Lara across the desk. It had several numbers marked on it. Lara plucked a quill out of an ink bottle on the desk and marked the numbers Gammond had told her to.

The clerk took the paper and glanced over it before setting it aflame with a Nihilfler. She grabbed a tin from under the desk and placed it near Lara.

“Please contact the front desk if you need more. The gym is through the door on the right, second door on the left.” the clerk said, “Good luck.”

Lara picked up the tin and popped it open. It was full to the brim with Godshards. Lara blinked in astonishment. Didn’t they have a war to fight? Not even Lara’s family could afford this much for Atrellian prices.

Too shocked to object, Lara simply carried on. She opened the glass door on the right and found the second door on the left. A sign next to it marked it as the Hross family’s personal gymnasium.

Lara stepped inside onto the polished stone floor.

She didn’t know that someone else would be using it at the same time.

Lucia leapt twenty feet into the air, nearly hitting the domed glass ceiling, six glinting projectiles burying themselves into a stuffed dummy before defying gravity and zipping onto her arms.

She landed with inhuman gracefulness, not making a sound. The Auriok glanced over at Lara.

“Hey, Shawe.” Lucia nodded, “Been a while.”

“Lucia.” Lara greeted, “You use this place?”

“Gam’s family has their own damn gym here. As long as we put in the right pin, anyone can use it.” Lucia said, “I heard about the...incident. You alright?”

“I’m okay.” Lara nodded, “Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, well don’t get too used to it.” the Auriok chuckled.

“What are those things on your arms?” Lara asked, “The things you were throwing around.”

Lucia held up her hand, a thick golden wristband with an elliptical shape locked around it, “My Wurdra?”

“Yes.”

“Wurdra are traditional weapons of the Auriok. Auriok are a flerical race like the Flamewrights and Warflers. All of us have Leechflers.” Lucia explained, “My Leechfler lets me manipulate gold with my mind. Though technically, the only part made of actual gold is an inner ring within them. These are tungsten.”

“Incredible.” Lara muttered.

The rings on her wrist, forearm and upper arm unlatched themselves before rocketing towards the last of three dummies that hadn’t been obliterated yet. The rings shot clean through the head, neck and gut of the dummy, spraying straw everywhere before returning to Lucia and latching back onto her arm.

“I’ve been rusty for a while. What brings you here?” the Auriok asked.

Lara shrugged, “Practice? I don’t have much experience using any of my flers.”

“Wanna spar?” she asked.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” Lara said, “I have three flers. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Lucia scoffed, “You just saw how I obliterated that dummy, right? I encourage you to test that theory. I’ll bet I can defeat you with my one fler while you use all three of yours. One weapon. No shots to the head or sensitive bits.” Lucia gestured to a rack along the wall full of bizarre weapons she didn’t recognize.

Lara sighed, “Fine. Have it your way.” she immediately went for the Emryd-style broadsword before freezing. The sword would feel comfortable, but how would that help her against those rings?

She turned to the more out-of-the-ordinary weapons mounted on the rack. After long consideration, she opted for a rope woven with metal wire coiled up on a hook with a small weight and a handle at the ends.

“Meteor hammer. Odd choice.” Lucia muttered, “You sure you can use that thing?”

“Well enough.” Lara said.

Lucia took her boots off, placing them by the wall. Lara did the same before entering the open space of the wooden floor, facing the other woman.

Lucia crouched low to the ground, as though she were ready to pounce, one of her open palms extended outward and one kept close in a guard.

Lara stood with her feet shoulder-width apart like a traditional fencing stance, but wasn’t exactly sure about the best way to hold her weapon. Maybe it would’ve been better to go with a weapon she had some experience with.

“Ready?” Lucia asked.

Lara nodded, eating three Godshards, “Come at me.”

Lucia’s finger twitched as two rings shot off her front arm, barreling towards Lara. She ducked out of their path as Lucia launched herself into the air by pushing herself off a ring on the ground. In the sky, she launched another two rings.

Lara dodged one and deflected the other with the cable held taut between her hands. Pain shot through her as one of the rings from the first attack slammed into the back of her leg, forcing her onto one leg. The other ring locked around Lara’s ankle and dragged her towards Lucia. The auriok was letting herself down, plummeting towards Lara with an elbow aimed at her gut.

Lara wrenched the arm holding the handle of her weapon forwards, casting the weight up towards Lucia. Lucia allowed the weight to wrap the cable around an unused hand, not allowing it to stop her trajectory.

Lara drew on Kogniirok and Impetellas, casting a Stormfler. Electricity shot up the metal wires, shocking Lucia. She cried out in pain as she landed in a roll next to Lara. Both women sprung up.

Lara channeled more electricity into the whip, causing Lucia some more pain before she tore the rope off her.

Lucia heaved, “Good choice of arms. Too bad it’s kind of shit in the way of defense.”

Three rings barreled toward Lara from behind Lucia. Lara once again leapt from the rings’ path.

Lucia’s rings moved in a circular motion, building up centripetal force as they moved. Based on the small surface area, Lara surmised that a single hit from one of them would knock her out for good.

Lara cast a Shadowfler, making herself vanish.

“You forgot a little something before doing that.” Lucia said.

Lara's leg lurched, pulled by her ankle. The ring! She’d forgotten to take off the ring on her ankle.

She hit the ground as the ring dragged her across the floor again. Lara lit a Nihilfler and strained to reach the ring. She hooked her finger in it and allowed the scalding heat to melt through the ring, the molten metal splattering to the ground next to her. The ring opened on its hinge, zipping away from Lara. She used the momentum from the ring to slide to her feet.

Though the ring had dragged her around the gym and straight to Lucia, who pinned her to the ground with a single hand. Lara felt her energy reserves suddenly drain from her body.

“Game over.” Lucia grinned as the five undestroyed rings latched onto the Auriok’s arms, “Though I will admit you were impressive for a first-timer.”

Lara groaned, “Ow. That’s a lot of bruises.”

“Yeah, well I won’t say you didn’t deserve them.” Lucia chuckled, “Flers are about ingenuity and experience. Not quantity or power.”

“What’d you do to my reserves?”

“Leechfler.” Lucia muttered, “I drained them from you. Though, for some stupid reason, they don’t let the sapper use that energy for themselves.”

Lucia offered a hand to Lara. She took it, letting Lucia help her to her feet.

“I wouldn’t recommend doing further exercise after that.” Lucia said, “Though you should come back. I’d like to spar with you again.”

“I thought you hated me.” Lara murmured.

Lucia shrugged, “Hate’s a strong word. Besides, you think I’d miss a chance to beat up an Atrellian Noble?” the Auriok chuckled.

Lara couldn’t help but smirk a little, “I’ll be on my way then.”

“See you around.” Lucia grinned, “And don’t be afraid to put that scientist’s mind to work next time. You’ll be needing it.”

______________________________________________________________

Lara cracked her eyes open to the noise of a blaring warhorn. She sat up in bed as Gammond crashed through her door.

Lara yelped, covering herself as Gammond caught his breath. He looked as though he’d been running for hours.

“The Atrellians…” He heaved, “They’re here. All our forces were in the Ash Rim! We need as many flerfingers as we can get!”

Lara’s eyes widened, “You’re serious?”

“Do I sound like I’m joking, woman?” Gammond asked, cursing in Emryd.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

Gammond nodded, leaving the room.

Lara leapt out of her bed, throwing on a simple pair of pants and a loose shirt. She wrapped a nearly sleeveless coat of padded gambeson armor that extended to her knees around her torso, tying it with a belt before grabbing a pair of leather boots and running down stairs.

She barely caught black steel breastplate as it was tossed to her by Gammond. With practiced motions, she buckled the breastplate, along with shoulder plates and bracers. She tied her hair up in a tail and grabbed a wooden round shield depicting Gammond’s company logo and a tin of God Shards.

Both she and Gammond ran out the door, hopping onto a cart by Gammond’s lead. He lashed the reins of the horses, sending them into a trot.

The cart behind them was full of wooden crates.

“What are the crates for?” she asked.

“Crossbows and shields for citizens.” Gammond said, “Mother and Father already went with what they could carry, but there is likely going to be a need for more.”

Both Lara and Gammond yelped as a boulder demolished a building to their right.

“Great. They got their trebuchets through.” Gammond muttered, “I have a gift for you.”

“At a time like this?” Lara grimaced, “How sweet.”

Gammond fished a leather pouch from his pocket, “Keep this on you.”

Lara glanced inside. The pouch was full of tiny metal balls, canisters of black powder, magnesium and a number of other trinkets that would favorably interact with her powers.

“I take back my sarcasm.” Lara said as the cart pulled up to the southern wall.

Gammond’s mother and father were handing out shields, armor and weapons to the citizens that didn’t have much in the way of arms.

“Crossbows! We have crossbows!” Gammond shouted, hopping off the cart and running to grab a crate. He broke one open and started handing out repeating crossbows to people. His little brother Takis soon joined in the effort of distributing arms.

“Want any help?” Lara asked.

Gammond shook his head, “Go up on the wall and fight! You’re better suited for it than me.”

Lara nodded before sprinting up the steps of the wall.

The city was facing down a force so large that a good sum of the soldiers were still hidden in the forest. The Atrellians had brought their ballistae, trebuchets and catapults to the forefront, bombarding the city.

Meanwhile, Atrellian archers covered the efforts of convicted Snakes attempting to ladder rush the walls.

The force was being held off by a hail of crossbow bolts coming from militia forces, but the gate was only being defended by a small number of well-armored men.

Lara surveyed the battlefield, catching sight of a siege engine that seemed close enough to hit. It was a ballista, taking chunks out of the upper wall.

Lara ate a Godshard and pulled a small vial of black powder out. The edges were metal, so she suspended it in the air between her fingers, full of electrical power thanks to a Stormfler. She lit the fuse with her other glowing hand before using the magnetic fields created by her Stormfler to launch the vial towards the ballista.

A loud explosion echoed across the field as the machine was enveloped in fire. The blast had lit the wooden frame ablaze.

At least a few people able to cast Nihilflers were firing Thunderlances on the attacking force, some using a collection of pellets to increase the effectiveness of the attacks.

Lara glanced up just as a flaming boulder hurtled towards her. She leapt out of the way as the boulder scraped off the top part of that section of wall.

The impact grabbed the attention of most fighters, diverting them from the first ladder that clamped onto the edge of the wall.

“Ladder rushers!” someone shouted.

Lara and everyone else atop the walls scrambled to pry the ladders along with their tightly locked clamps off of the wall. Meanwhile, more projectiles from the siege engines kept coming.

Lara clamped her hands over the metal locking mechanism on the first ladder, using a Nihilfler to melt the piece apart and shove the ladder over.

A giant impact, accompanied by many cracks echoed from the main doors of the wall.

How did they get a battering ram close?

Many crossbowers leapt over the destroyed portion of the wall and into the building above the main gate to fire upon those trying to knock it down.

Lara heard the splintering of one set of the main doors being destroyed as she descended the wall, but when she got there, the Atrellians were sounding a horn.

Gammond relaxed as the horn echoed across the field.

“What’s that?” Lara asked.

“A retreat signal.” Gammond sighed.

“They’re retreating? They almost broke in!” Lara exclaimed.

“I know. That’s why they’re leaving.” Gammond muttered, “It was all a show.”

“That was all just military chest-beating?” Lara spat.

“More than that. They showed us just how defenseless we are. They defeated the army in the Ash Rim, which means we have no troops aside from voluntary militia.” he said, “They probably cut off any chances of us calling for reinforcements.”

“They want us to hand the city over without a fight, don’t they?” Lara asked.

Gammond nodded.

The citizens were starting to recover bodies of the dead and bring the wounded to local doctors and nurses who had come to the wall.

“Wait...wasn’t the King Regent at the Ash Rim?” Lara asked.

“Yes. Though, he likely escaped death with his guard.” Gammond said, “We have bigger problems than a missing interim ruler. We have no army with decent training to defend ourselves from a siege. The Atrellians busted the gate open and severely damaged our south wall.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Lara asked.

“My parents own the largest weapons company this side of the Ridge. If they do something, most other companies will follow suit. So getting the people together shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Though, I doubt the city has enough resources to make enough arms for everybody.” Lara said.

“That’s not what I mean.” Gammond said, “We need to get all the Tialemancers in the city together. We need the Warlock.”

“How are we going to find the Warlock?”

“Trial and error. We just put the Demonspine whip into the hands of every Tialemancers until it works for one. If it works for one.” Gammond said, “There’s just one issue, though.”

“What’s that?”

Gammond pointed towards the center of the city, to the stone palace sitting high atop a hill, “We may have to stage a coup d'etat to get our hands on it.”


	14. Chapter 13: The Knight

Kaitlyn Isley violently ran her quill across the rough parchment of her leather bound journal.

She had to get everything right. The blade, the embroidery, the inscription. Though, memory wasn’t the greatest way to recreate the image.

She went to dip her quill into her bottle of black ink again.

The Morgaul Steppe was a quiet place, excellent for researchers. Only by the grace of the University of Ukota had she been able to set foot upon its grasslands.

She unwrapped the artifact the slightest bit. Its detailed golden embroidery was difficult to memorize.

The object’s name was Shadowbane. It was the sword of the Knight, Bronduk’s Champion.

For centuries, it had been missing, but after a reckless expedition to the Sudenland, Kaitlyn managed to find it. Her scholarly duties ordered that she submits it to the Church of Bronduk for preservation. But that's not why she became an archeologist.

The Steppe was thousands of miles from Atrell, beyond the reach of the Empire. She wanted to get one last look at the relic before it was locked away forever.

Kaitlyn finished her sketch off, leaving the journal open to dry the ink.

She glanced at the opening in her small canvas tent, into the night. They’d finally arrived.

Kaitlyn set her quill aside and covered Shadowbane in its leather wrap once more, taking it with her as she stepped onto the grassy plain.

“Miss Isley. Welcome.”

Her correspondent was a thin, tall and pale man with straight black hair and golden eyes that reflected the moonlight. He was aided by two Morgaul warriors, who towered over both of them.

“And here I was expecting Morgaul correspondent to be...well, Morgaul.” Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow.

“I am of Norwyn, Miss Isley, I assure you. Call me Caze.” The man said, “Now, the blade?”

Kaitlyn glanced down at the leather wrapped weapon in her hands.

Am I doing the right thing? That was all that ever went through her head these past days.

By handing over Shadowbane, not only would she be betraying her God, her country and her family, but she would deprive Atrell of its savior that had been lost for centuries. An affront to every living person within the empire.

But if she gave it to the Church...She had to do it. She had to protect Edmund. She wouldn’t make her brother suffer such a life.

Hesitantly, Kaitlyn gave Caze the artifact.

Damnit, Ma. This is your fault.

“You will be highly rewarded for this effort, Miss Isley.” Caze’s grin was slimy and sparked an air of suspicion.

“All I want...if somehow anyone you know comes in contact with a boy named Edmund Isley, please keep him safe.” Kaitlyn said.

“Is that all?” Caze asked.

Kaitlyn nodded.

“I appreciate you bringing this to us. This way, we can hide the relic forever. However...with a witness to the region, we cannot guarantee its safety.” Caze sighed, “Do you understand what I require from you?”

“A vow of secrecy?” Kaitlyn asked.

Caze shook his head, “Not solid enough.”

Kaitlyn blinked, staring at the grass, “I...I see. Make it quick, then.”

Why? Why did she just say that? She didn’t want to die! Did she? Was Edmund worth it? What about her own happiness?

It was at that moment that she understood why she had gone to such lengths. She was thinking of her own happiness. What kind of ten year old boy would be happier with his only sister dead? Perhaps he would’ve taken the burden on willingly.

But he no longer had that choice. Because just like his mother, Kaitlyn had been selfish and gotten herself killed to try and make him happier.

“Life is a tragedy only when someone dies with regret in their heart,” their father had always said.

She couldn’t do that to him.

So she ran.  
_____________________________________________________________________

Edmund slammed his head against the table that Camilla was sitting on. She jumped slightly, looking up from a book.

“What’s the problem?” Camilla asked.

“Faithflers. They’re still a pain in the ass.” Edmund muttered, “‘Trust in yourself’ is easy to say, but the first lessons you learn as a child are hard to dismantle.”

“They do seem needlessly troublesome. Any way I can help?” She replied.

Edmund sighed, “I can handle it. I hope.”

“Do you want me to ask for Elius?” She asked.

Edmund shook his head, “I like him, but I don’t trust him. Ironically.”

“How come?”

Edmund shrugged, “The way he is just feels...off to me. I can’t really explain it.”

Camilla nodded, “I get that.”

“Aren’t you his apprentice?” Edmund frowned.

“Yes, and because of that, I notice he acts very oddly around you.” Camilla said, “He tries to act like the father you never had, but clearly has no idea what he’s doing.”

“Does he pity me or something?” He asked.

Camilla shook her head, “I doubt that. Though, maybe a little.” She grasped her chin in thought, “You know those parents who make their children follow in their occupation too much? Like a soldier who encourages his son to get into fights and stuff.”

Edmund nodded.

“That’s what it looks like from the outside.” Camilla said.

“It does kind of feel like he’s training me for some kind of ‘great destiny’ or something.”

“You know, some of the older apprentices tell stories of how he used to be a soldier.” Camilla mused, “Apparently he was sure he was the Knight for like...ten years. He slowly gave up on that dream, though.”

“He thought he was the Knight?” Edmund chortled.

She nodded, “Weird, right? Maybe he sees you as another chance for himself or something. Like he’s...intending to live out his dreams vicariously through you.”

“But I’m not the Knight.” Edmund said.

“He seems to think you will be.” Camilla shrugged, “I wouldn’t find it so bad. I’m getting tired reading about all the paragons and noble heroes.”

“Well I won’t become the Knight anytime soon if I can’t cast Faithflers.” Edmund muttered, “I doubt Bronduk would want someone who’s not only a Snake, but also pretty incompetent when it comes to flers.”

“You’re not incompetent, Edmund.” Camilla said softly, “You just don’t trust as easily.”

“Well then, I’m incompetent at trusting.” Edmund said.

“Hey, that’s not always a bad thing. You know it.” She hopped down from the desk, “What are you trying to do this time?”

“Channel power into others. Though it’s kind of vague.”

“Who are you channeling it to? I see a distinct absence of people in the library.” Camilla said.

“You, I guess.” Edmund shrugged.

“Well that much is easy.” Camilla said, “It’s just a matter of asking if you trust me.”

Edmund hesitated, “I...trust is a relative term. What does it mean to trust someone, really?”

“Alright, fine.” Camilla sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her touch sent a chill up his spine. But...a good kind, “Would you...rely on me for something?”

“What’s ‘something’?” Edmund asked.

Camilla pinched the bridge of her nose, “Just...relax for a minute. Close your eyes.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow but followed her request. With a long exhale, he rested his eyes.

He immediately snapped them open when her other hand laid on him, close to his neck.

“Eyes. Closed.” Camilla said quietly, but sternly.

“Why?” Edmund asked.

“You’ll just have to trust me,” she smirked.

Edmund huffed, but closed his eyes. Then, her palms and fingers started moving.

“Damn, you’re tense.” Camilla muttered.

“What are you doing?” Edmund asked.

“It’s called a massage. Now shut up and let yourself relax.”

“Have you ever tried to relax? It just makes you-“

“Relax.” Her voice was absurdly close to his ear. He could feel her breath graze his ear and it sent a mix of alarm and stimulation through him.

She was kneading his shoulder muscles like dough. At first it felt uncomfortable and alien, but he soon fell into the pattern of her movements, wringing the weight and stress from his muscles.

He was comfortable. He felt...oddly safe. Here, the weight on his chest didn’t feel as heavy.

Edmund let the minutes pass by, not realizing until much later that he had an actual goal here.

“This...ooh...this feels great, but...how’s this gonna help?” Edmund asked.

“Look at yourself.” Camilla said, “You’ve let me near the most vital parts of your body. I could stick a pen in your neck right this second. But I’m not. And you’ve allowed me here. Try burning some energy on a Faithfler.”

Edmund followed her advice and cast a Faithfler.

“Now open your eyes.”

Camilla’s hands stopped moving as Edmund cracked his eyes open. She walked over to the table in front of him and picked it up with one hand. To further test herself, Camilla lightly tossed the table into the air and caught it before setting it down.

“I...I did it.” Edmund muttered.

“Now that isn’t to say that everyone who gives you a massage will be able to benefit from your power, but the trust you placed in me to take care of what you clearly needed allowed you to pass it on to me.” Camilla explained.

“I...I suppose I do trust you, huh?” Edmund said.

“Well, I wouldn’t be a very good mentor if we didn’t trust each other enough to use your abilities.”

“Thank you.” Edmund smiled with genuineness for the first time in a while.

“Oh, don’t get so sappy over me. I’ll likely need your help sometime in the future, so I expect you to get me out of a bind eventually.”

Edmund chuckled, “I don’t doubt it. I’ll be there, then.”

_______________________________________________________________

“By the Champions, Elius is working me to the bone. It’s like he has no faith in me, but full confidence in me at the same time,” Edmund muttered.

He and Pasco were lounging around a fireplace in one of the keep’s common rooms. Pasco was half consciously writing some music.

“Fuck my life.” Edmund sighed, melodramatically.

Pasco scoffed, “It’s nowhere near that bad. You can cast three different flers. Did you suddenly turn into a coward the moment they started treating you like a noble? I don’t even get to hang around a hot tutor all day.”

“Pfft. All she does is...well, she’s alright. Though, it’s not exactly a fantasy.” Edmund chuckled, “And half the time, I have that geezer Elius looking over my shoulder. The amount of confidence he has in me makes me...uncomfortable.”

“He probably thinks you’re the Knight.” Pasco said, strumming a few chords before jotting them down, “And if you are, I’ll be the one to write songs about you after you die. I could start performing again...”

“Er...thanks? Though, if you don’t perform, what do you do when I’m busy? ” Edmund asked.

“Have some...comfortable conversation with Lady Thorne.”

Edmund scoffed, “You’re a storybook womanizer, Pasco.”

“And yet I still find time to chat with you. Though, I can’t say the same for once I get the tools to deal with the mess atop my head they call hair.” Pasco pushed a strand of hair behind his ear as he changed up the beat of his song, “What do you think of this?

“ _The Knight, O his story starts young_

__

When he was arrested, he thought he was done.

__

But the noble Sir Pasco, he helped him despite

__

_The fact that our hero was a tad of a shite._ ”

“Could use some syllable work on the last line.” Edmund raised his eyebrows.

Pasco cleared his throat.

“ _Our Knight, did he whine outright like a child,_

__

__

_But his tutor Camilla did make him go wi-_ “

The door to the room slammed open.

Pasco yelped, dropping his lute to the ground.

“Speak of the Titans.” Edmund chuckled.

Camilla, standing in the doorway, glanced at the bard warily before turning her gaze back to Edmund, “Are you doing anything of importance right now?”

“Today is the first day I’ve had off in a week.” Edmund muttered, “So, no, but also-”

“Good. We’re going on an adventure.”

Edmund sighed.

“Oh, can I come?” Pasco asked.

“No.” Camilla said flatly.

“Come on, I need new material to write songs!” The bard whined.

Camilla sighed, “Fine. But change all the names or I will have your guts for garters.”

Thirty minutes later, Camilla brought them down to the camp after having changed into a set of clothes more comfortable than her robes. She wore a black blouse and a pair of leather riding pants with a long, white scholar’s coat over it, with tight sleeves, pointed shoulders and a high collar. In addition to that, she’d gone with a pair of black heeled boots and thin gloves meant to prevent contaminating artifacts.

Edmund, Camilla and Pasco each borrowed a horse from the stables, forgoing all offers for accompaniment since they were headed further into Atrellian lands.

A few minutes into their ride into the grass-filled areas of the Steppe, Edmund asked, “Semi-important question: where are we actually going?”

“An Ansami facility the army discovered recently. We’re going before they can turn it into an archeological dig. I'm majoring in Pre-Collapse magics, so getting my hands on whatever is in there first is key.” Camilla said, “It would also provide you with some very useful experience.”

“Huh. My sister used to major in that too.” Edmund muttered.

Two hours and ten of Pasco’s less murderous-impulse-inducing songs later, Camilla stopped her horse atop a hill. A before them was dull yellowish green grassland and rolling hills.

“Where’s the facility?” asked Pasco.

“Directly under us.” Camilla grunted as she lowered herself off her horse. Edmund and Pasco dismounted to glance over her shoulder as she knelt down in the grass.

Camilla cleared the grass out so they could see the tiny glyph engraved into a metal signet in the ground. She pressed the glyph, causing it to ignite with a blue glow.

The ground started to tremble, sending the horses into a mild scare. A rift formed in the dirt as the ground started to slowly move. A large plate of land was starting to descend into a metal chasm.

“What in the Abyss?” Edmund hissed.

“This is just another example of the brilliance of the Ansam Empire.” Camilla grinned.

“Sad to see that Atrell’s the one that’s claiming to be their descendants.” Edmund chuckled.

When the platform stopped moving, the three of them were surrounded by darkness on all sides. The sunlight shone, just barely illuminating the metallic floor where the dirt came to a stop.

“A thousand years old and the machinery still works…” Camilla muttered, “Incredible.”

“What is this place...?” Pasco asked.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Camilla handed Edmund a lantern, “You two go off on your own. We’ll meet back here in an hour. Or if any security happens to still be working.”

With that, Camilla lit a lantern of her own and vanished into the darkness.

Pasco strummed a menacing series of chords on his lute, only to receive a slap on the arm from Edmund.

The two men went in a different direction after lighting their lamp.

The facility was made from an amount of metal Edmund could barely fathom. The walls, the floors, the ceilings were all made from metal plates the size of houses.

The sheer amount of dust nearly blinded him. This place really had been abandoned for a thousand years. But if that were so, how was it not falling apart from rust and corrosion?

Edmund descended a small staircase into a large rectangular room. Shining the lamp around, he saw metal platforms and desks lining the room with ancient machinery and devices atop them.

“You reckon those things still work?” Pasco asked.

“What’s it matter if we don’t even know what they do?” Edmund replied.

“Eh. Fair.” Pasco shrugged, “Let’s keep going.”

Edmund picked up the lantern and started through another hallway that came off of the large room. The maw of darkness before them stretched ahead for an eternity, but the two men still delved into it.

That is, until Edmund stopped in his tracks. There was something lurking in the corner of the dark.

He turned to focus the light on it and let out a small gasp.

A splattering of old bloodstains matted the wall, with a lone and limp skeleton as the source. It was dressed in the same academy robes as Camilla kept on during tutoring sessions. The body had been speared through the chest, a broken wooden stake poking out from the skeleton’s clothing.

“Looks like this place wasn’t as untouched as Camilla thought.” Pasco muttered.

Edmund yanked the spear from its place in between the ribs. The tip was rusted and dull, but the spear had a curved blade to it, “Look at this.”

“What about it?” Pasco asked, “It’s a spear.”

“Haven’t you seen these before?” Edmund asked, “It’s a Morgaul lance. Meaning the Morgauls had access to this place.”

“Titans...then, there might still be some down here if the Atrellians just discovered it.” Pasco said.

“We should head back to the entrance and get Camilla just in case.” Edmund muttered.

_______________________________________________________

Camilla always had the sense that someone was watching her. Always.

Most of the time, it was just paranoia. But there were those times when she wasn’t such a fool. Now, she was certain there were eyes on her. But she heard no noise, saw nothing.

She even considered casting a Shadowfler to detect any other users of the same fler. But she was always better off concealing her access to Glorekja.

Camilla set her lantern down in the main laboratory of the facility. She predicted correctly. Scattered about the facility were half-finished devices about twice the size of her head.

They were Dying Star, weapons of old that hadn’t been used in a thousand years. Each was shaped into a spherical metal casing.

Camilla walked over to one of the Dying Stars, still keeping an eye out for whoever may have been following her. With a grunted, she popped the casing open and removed the top half of the sphere. Inside was a metal framework, holding ten small crystals about the size of her hand.

She looked over them, peering closely to see the coloration of their energy. After looking through all of them, she picked out the crystal glowing with violet, blue and green light. A Broker Stone.

Camilla proceeded to investigate each present Dying Star and remove their respective Broker Stones. Without them, she couldn’t make stims. Unfortunately, it was a practice the Atrellians refused to revive, so she had to make them for herself.

Then, she heard the sound. Something scraping across the floor.

Camilla whirled around, hand on the hilt of a small dagger on her hip. Nothing was there. She couldn’t take it anymore.

With some reserved power, Camilla cast a Shadowfler, making both herself invisible and allowing her to see others using the same power. The world around her went monochrome, greys and blacks replacing the orange flicker of her lamp.

But no sign could be seen.

A force swept across Camilla’s legs, tripping her. She landed hard on the ground as the attacker revealed itself.

It was a human skeleton, coated in a layer of some metallic or rocky substance and dressed in old cloth robes. Its eyes glowed with a bright light whose color was hidden to Camilla’s affected vision. She got to her feet, about to draw her dagger when the skeleton vanished from sight.

She still had her fler active. How could she not see it?

Camilla drew a few seeds from a pouch on her belt. She drew on Glorekja and Sylvanor, casting a Rotfler as she tossed the seeds in front of her.

In a matter of seconds, vines sprouted from them, growing all throughout the room, including around the invisible demon.

The skeleton reverted to a visible form just before breaking through the vines.

“Who-” Camilla barely got out before the skeleton vanished once more. She braced herself for another attack, but nothing came.

She dropped her flers and picked up her lantern and ran back towards the entrance.

As she reached the chamber lit up by sunlight from the surface, she saw Edmund and Pasco run onto the mound of dirt, out of breath.

Camilla climbed up to the mound as well, “What did you two find?”

“Skeleton.” Edmund huffed.

“What a coincidence. Same here. Did yours turn invisible and move around too?” Camilla asked.

“What?” Pasco furrowed his brow, “Of course not!”

“The body had a Morgaul spear in its chest. We thought maybe more of them were down here, so we came back.” Edmund explained.

“Hm...well I seem to be currently pursued by whatever passes for a guard down here.” Camilla muttered.

“We should stick together then.” Edmund said, sweeping his progressively more unruly hair to the side.

“That, we should.” Camilla nodded, “Anything in particular you noticed about that body?”

“It was wearing robes like yours.” Edmund said.

“Like mine? So another student has already been down here?” Camilla asked.

“And never lived to tell the tale, looks like.” Pasco chimed in.

“How’s that possible? If a disciple was ever to go off on an expedition like this, there’d be records.”

“You’re not doing this on a record, are you?” Edmund asked.

“Well...no. But still, I would have heard something about them going missing.” Camilla muttered, “Let’s go look at your situation first before we tackle mine. I have a feeling one skeleton will be harder to catch than the other.”

________________________________________________________________

“Hm...these robes are legitimate.” Camilla stood from her kneeling position next to the dead body, “But they’re kind of...outdated. By a decade or so. No interior pouches for emergency Godshards. The emblem’s also somewhat different.”

“A decade? We haven’t even been at war with Morgaul for a decade.” Pasco said.

“I know...which makes this even more odd.” Camilla muttered, cupping her chin.

“What the…” Edmund bent down and picked up a small leatherbound book, “I didn’t see this last time.”

“What’s it say?” Camilla asked.

“It’s funny that you think I can read.” Edmund tossed the book to her.

Camilla caught it in her hands and flipped open the old and worn pages, “Huh. Seems this person was just as off the books.”

“What’s it say?” Pasco asked.

Camill started to read from the journal, “Her name is Kaitlyn...Isley.”

Edmund furrowed his brow, “I-Isley? As in...my Isley?”

Camilla nodded slowly, “I suppose. She’s a Pre-Collapse major. Like me.”

“S-so...that body…” Edmund softly gasped.

Edmund stumbled backwards as the world around him started to spin. His nostrils flared with fifty pound breaths and sweat started to form on his brow as his eyes were stuck open wide.

“This isn’t happening. Th-that’s not possible. She...she...that can’t be her…” Edmund gasped uncontrollably, his legs curling up to his chest.

“Edmund? Edmund, what’s wrong?” Camilla asked, “Talk to me!”

“Not another…” He wheezed, “Why another? Why, why, why!”

“Get a grip, Isley!” Pasco grabbed Edmund's shoulders.

Edmund shoved the bard off and scrambled away from the body, “It’s not her, it’s not her, it’s not her. It’s not her!”

Camilla knelt down to him and replied as softly as she could, “Edmund? I need you to look at me, alright? It’s fine. We’re going to be fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Edmund roared, “That’s my fucking sister!”

“Shit…” Pasco muttered.

“Of course…” Camilla gasped.

Camilla glanced up at Pasco, a pleading look in her eye.

“I write songs about dragons, not emotions.” Pasco shook his head.

“Edmund, please.” Camilla said, turning back to him, “I know it’s painful. I get it, I do. But you have to stay here with us.”

Edmund was starting to see spots. He felt as though he was being crushed by the sky itself.

“Edmund…” Camilla whispered, rest a hand on his shoulder, “Stay with me, alright?”

Edmund looked into her sparkling blue eyes that reflected the flickering lantern light. How could he think to show her how weak he was? The only way was forward. As much as he hated it, there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. His short gasps of air became shaky and shallow, but calmer breaths. He gulped, “I...I’m fine...I’ll be okay...I just-”

“I know,” Camilla offered him a sad, but understanding smile.

“How’d she...I mean, I don’t understand. We were Pious. How’d she get all the way out here? Why was she killed?” Edmund asked.

“We’ll figure it out.” Camilla flipped open the book again, “Yes...she mentions you. Mentions...protecting you from your fate…”

Edmund sat silently, anxious to hear what the contents within the pages were.

“She met with the Morgauls and gave them something...I don’t know what. The item’s name is in Ansami. Old Ansami.” Camilla muttered, “But she claims to have made a mistake in doing so and came here to retrieve it. That means the Morgauls had access to this place not that long ago. Why wouldn’t they defend it harder if they killed your sister for getting inside?”

“Maybe they didn’t think we could get inside,” Pasco said, “Even then, the amount of time it would take to perform an excavation here with the legal documents, would take...years. Likely enough time for them to launch a counter attack.”

“Or perhaps they put that much trust into whatever attacked me earlier.” Camilla said before looking back to the book, “The item is in the east wing...This is the east wing.”

“Then we go further.” Edmund got to his feet, picking up a lantern.

“Are you sure?” Pasco asked.

“My last remaining family member died for whatever is in this building. I’m going to find out what.” Edmund said.

Edmund continued down the dark corridor, until he reached a large metal door.

“This must be it.” Edmund muttered.

He grabbed the handle and pushed, but to no avail. He pushed with all his might a second and third time for the same result.

“Come help me,” he grunted while pushing.

Even with all three of their body weights against it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It must be locked by something.” Camilla said.

“With what? There’s no lock.” Pasco said, pointing to the solid, smooth surface of the door.

Edmund pulled on the handle just in case. Still nothing.

“I think I have an idea.” Edmund closed his eyes and cast a Truthfler. Hand outstretched, he attempted to freeze whatever water existed within the door’s parts. He couldn’t feel if there was any, but he could try.

When Edmund pushed on the door again, he felt a crack. Edmund slammed his hand to the surface and started freezing again while pushing until the locking mechanism gave in and shattered.

He stumbled into the room, followed by Pasco and Camilla.

The room was lit by some form of ambient light, far brighter than their lamps. It had a circular layout, also constructed of metal.

In the center of the room, lay an altar of some sort. Upon it, sat a displayed suit of armor and a curved saber, resting on a rack.

They were the only things in the room.

Edmund approached the display, but noticed it was encased by glass.

“For how strong that door was, glass seems like a poor security choice.” Camilla frowned.

“You said something attacked you?” Edmund asked, “If this is what it’s supposed to be guarding, why hasn’t it-” Edmund was cut off before the light in the room started to flicker, “What’s happening?”

Darkness enveloped the room, the light vanishing and their lamps extinguishing.

“A Shadowfler!” Camilla yelled from somewhere in the blackness, “Edmund, crack it!”

Edmund cats a Lawfler, closing his eyes and focusing on the source of radiating Megyno energy around the room.

When one trained with a good instructor for any amount of time, the flerfinger learned to start sensing a nature of Megyno energy in certain things.

Cracking a fler required great focus and the ability to acutely sense the nature of whatever fler you were confronted with. Luckily, Edmund knew what he was dealing with.

A merger of Kogniirok and Glorekja. They were present among the darkness. He just needed to seperate them.

But before Edmund could complete the process, something raked across his face, an immense pain following in its wake.

Edmund stumbled back, his eyes snapping open to blood on his hands. He frantically looked around, but saw no perpetrator.

“Shit.” He hissed.

Then, he saw a flash of movement among the darkness. Edmund lashed out his palm, launching a blast of force at the attacker. But the creature was able to maneuver itself around the blast and swipe with its claws again.

Edmund dodged from the attack’s path and launched the attacker back into the darkness. He quickly dug into the essence of the fler and dismantled it as best he could.

The darkness vanished after a few seconds, just as the robed, dark blue skeleton that had been attacking them started to run at Edmund.

“Look out!” Camilla yelled, just getting her bearings.

Still not used to using Lawflers yet, Edmund's first instinct was to smash the glass case with his elbow and grab the nearby saber off its rack.

But the action took too long. He got the weapon, but the skeleton slashed its claws across Edmund’s chest before it could be drawn from its scabbard. He grunted in pain as the skeleton came back for another attack. This time, an impalement through the gut.

All the energy drained from Edmund’s body as the skeleton attacked. Every last drop. But no pain came.

The lack wasn’t some lag of pain so immense his mind couldn’t handle it. Edmund glanced down to see that his midsection, where the skeleton attempted to pierce, had exploded into a mist-like formation.

The skeleton backed away and his midsection repaired itself. He patted the area. It was solid again.

“What in the Abyss?” Edmund muttered.

Edmund glanced at Pasco and Camilla. Both of them were just as dumbstruck. No one moved. Not even the skeleton, who let its guard down upon the realization of what had just happened.

“All hail!” a dry, raspy voice came from the skeleton’s unmoving mouth, “The wielder of Shadowbane! The Knight of Bronduk!”

______________________________________________

The sky darkened in the bustling city of Atrell as a beam of white light shot up into the air, for all the people to see.

The beam shattered the skylight of the Ansami Cathedral in the heart of the city.

Marie, an experienced apostle had been watching over the Cathedral's most prized treasure, the Clarion Stone, when the crystal exploded with light.

She stood bewildered, arm up to block the vicious winds pouring out from the force of the beam.

Marie traced a circle on her forehead before falling to her knees and clasping her hands in prayer. No one alive today had ever bore witness to the Calling.

Disciples and Priests alike clambered to the chamber in which the stone was being held, also prostrating themselves in adoration.

"EDMUND ISLEY!"

The voice the almighty Bronduk himself echoed from the stone. It was beginning. Marie felt her stomach rise up into her throat.

No mere mortal was meant to just witness the Calling.

"COME, MY CHAMPION! COME TO ATRELL AND CLAIM THE STONE OF YOUR BIRTH RIGHT!"

"HAIL THE ROILBORN! HAIL THE BANE OF SHADOW! HAIL THE SUCCESSOR OF HYBALD! PRAISE BE TO THE KNIGHT!"


	15. Chapter 14: The Warlock

The words echoed across the sky as Bronduk, God of Justice stopped speaking.

“Edmund…” Lara whispered, “You’re alive.”

“Isley.” Gammond muttered as he approached her outside the Hross residence, “He was on that ship with us, wasn’t he?”

Lara nodded, “To think he was the Knight…I thought he was dead.”

Gammond chuckled, “That must really irk the Atrellians. Their savior’s a Snake?”

Lara shrugged, “The Priests will find a way to justify it. They usually do.”

Gammond raised an eyebrow, “Never heard you speak of priests like that. Don’t you still believe?”

“I’ve lived in Emreth for a month, Gammond. It’d be odd of me not to apostatize.” Lara grinned, “I’ve gotten perspective on just how restrictive Atrell is.”

“We have an audience with the King Regent and the Princess later today.” Gammond said, “You ready?”

“How many Tialemancers did you get?”

Gammond sighed, “Not many. Most think the Whip alone won’t win the siege for us. They want to launch a counter attack before we start to starve.”

“And you think the Whip will defeat the Atrellians?” Lara asked.

“That’s assuming anyone in the city is actually the user.” Gammond muttered, “but if the legends are even quasi-factual, we’ll be able to drive the Empire back to the Ash Rim, if not out of Maladeth as well.”

“I’ve only heard stories about the Knight and Shadowbane. What are the stories people tell about the Warlock?”

Gammond furrowed his brow in recollection, “They called the first Warlock Zinon. Nothing much was known about him as a person. All we’ve been able to recover was from inscription on the Necropolis in Dorizal. They say he was among the first to contact the Night Princes, a race of Abyssal demons we make deals with today in exchange for military cooperation.”

“We sure could’ve used one during the attack.” Lara muttered.

“It’d be hard to get one to agree.” Gammond said, “They’ll jump at the chance to go out of their way to slaughter Atrellians, but they don’t do defense. Anyways, Zinon is said to have used the Night Princes’ powers to become a warlord. He took Imryt from the Ansami while it was weakening and established a kingdom that is modern day Emreth.

“After his campaign, the God of Discord, Tialeis contacted him, asking to donate a champion to fight against the Titans. Zinon took the opportunity himself and forged a weapon from the spine of Dreketh, the most loyal of his Night Prince allies.” Gammond explained, “Many stories from many Warlocks claim a great number of things the weapon can do. Some say it can channel the power of the Ash Rim’s volcanoes. Others say it allows the user to control fear itself.”

“What do you believe?” Lara asked.

“I believe whatever power the whip has, it will bring our armies a victory.” Gammond said.

A long silence stood between them as they each looked to the white beam of light in the sky. When it vanished, Lara spoke up, “Gammond, what if I’m the Warlock?”

“I’m pretty sure you’d be a better leader than the King and princess.” Gammond said.

“No, I mean what’ll happen to...us. And Lucia. And everyone else I’ve met here? Will I still be...a person?”

“What do you mean?” Gammond looked to her, concerned.

“Will we still be friends? I know it sounds arro- No. No, it’s not arrogant.” Lara corrected herself, “I’m afraid that if I become the Warlock, I’ll lose you.”

Gammond cleared his throat before letting out a somewhat stifled breath, “I promise that we’ll still be friends if you become the Warlock. And...it-it’s good to have that fear. To love someone is to fear losing them.”

“I, er...I don’t know if I’d quite say love.” Lara muttered.

“You know what I mean. That fear creates anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate makes us suffer. And suffering makes you strong.” Gammond said.

Lara nodded, “Well, I think I hate Atrell. For real.”

“Master Hross.” one of Gammond’s apprentices, the girl from the attack on his shop, appeared from the front gate of the property, “Lady Shawe. Your carriage is ready. The other Tialemancers are also among the caravan.”

Gammond sighed, “I won’t be going.”

“What?” Lara whirled to him.

“You need to do this on your own. Along with the Tialemancers. If I’m there, it’ll seem like a corporate grab for power.” Gammond said, “I’ve seen you grow this past month, Lara. Time to put that growth to the test.”

“Gammond, I can’t do this by myself!” Lara exclaimed.

“Then you shouldn’t be doing it at all.” Gammond crossed his arms.

Lara let out a shaky breath, “I...o-okay. Fine. I’ll do it. But you only have yourself to blame if this goes wrong.”

“I’m willing to accept that responsibility.” Gammond nodded, “Good luck.”

“Let’s hope I don’t need it.” Lara muttered.

Lara followed Gammond’s apprentice to the carriage just outside the gate and stepped inside. The carriage had a line of similar vessels behind it, presumably filled with other Tialemancers.

Lara sat alone within her carriage, playing the scenario in her head and thinking about what to say.

_Is it a request or am I supposed to just attack them when they refuse? Who should hold the whip first?_

Before she knew it, the carriage stopped.

She swore in Atrellian. Hesitantly, Lara stepped out of the carriage, faced with the massive palace of Imryt. The structure was made completely of dark stone bricks, covered in archways, triangular roofs and a myriad of towers.

The other Tialemancers all disembarked. In total, there were only about eleven. Not good.

Lara took a deep breath before approaching the palace, but was blocked off by two spearmen.

“We have a meeting with the King Regent.” Lara said with as much confidence as she could muster.

“You will wait until his majesty is ready.” One of the spearmen said.

“Bullshit.” Lara growled, summoning up all the defiance she could manage, “There’s an army on our doorstep and your King decides to make a show of getting ready? Let us through.”

The spearmen looked at each other before hesitantly allowing them to pass. Lara and the Tialemancers pushed open the giant wooden doors, entering into the palace’s great hall.

Royal guardsmen stood sentry along the rows of columns that held the hall up. The Tialemancers advanced along the red and gold carpet laid out towards the thrones. There sat two of them, one for the King Regent and one for the Princess.

The Princess looked no older than fifteen. She looked a lot like her sister Lyn, with her aloof mannerisms and perpetually downward cast gaze.

“Miss Shawe.” The King Regent said smoothly, “You’ve come a bit early. One normally waits for their king to prepare himself.”

“We have no time for pleasantries such as that, your majesty. Surely you’ve seen the army at your gates.” Lara said.

“And you’ve come to the Monarchy? Why not beseech the militias for more troops?” The Regent asked.

“It’s not troops we need.” One of the Tialemancers behind her said.

“We Tialemancers have come to request that you give us a chance to use the Demonspine Whip.” said Lara, “If one of us is the Warlock, we can clear the army out.”

The King Regent blinked, “Don’t be foolish, Miss Shawe. Why would you need to test? Princess Junia is our Champion.”

“How do you know that?” Lara frowned.

“Don’t you think it is wrong to use the Warlock for such things? We should be able to handle the enemy ourselves, not rely on some Champion to do it for us.” Caze glowered.

“You’re the government! If you don’t give it your all to protect the people, then why do you even exist?” Lara asked, “Like it or not, that Whip gives us the best chance at succeeding against the enemy. And you still haven’t answered me. How do you know Junia’s the Warlock?”

“You will refer to me as her royal majesty, Atrellian wretch!” The young girl declared.

Lara paused, but decidedly ignored her.

“Say you’re right, Regent.” Lara said, “Junia is still not of age. No Champion has ever been a Champion under the age of sixteen. She can’t use the Whip. We need it to be used now. Clearly, you can’t defend your assertion of the Champion’s identity. So just let us try it.”

“People like you are exactly what’s wrong with this country.” Caze growled, “You have no respect for the monarchy.”

“You mean a government body so small that most companies outclass its economic contributions?” Lara asked, “Where’s the Whip, damnit!”

“Guards, escort her out of my sight. This was a waste of time.”

Lara’s hands started to glow as the guards approached.

“Wait!” Caze shouted, “We don’t have to resort to flerical violence. I will let one of you hold the Whip. Alright? After that, you must leave.”

Lara let go of an anticipatory breath, “I…”

“Otherwise, we’ll be happy to resort to violence.” Caze said.

Lara sighed, “Fine.”

“Bring the Demonspine Whip.” Caze shouted. His gaze returned to them, “The one who will hold the whip...will be you.”

Caze pointed at one of the other Tialemancers. An older man with black hair and a skinny build.

“What?” Lara and several other Tialemancers exclaimed.

“I said one of you could hold the whip. I never said you could choose.” The Regent displayed a self-satisfying grin.

Two men, draped in black robes and faces hidden by hoods carried a large chest into the hall. They set it down and opened the box, retrieving the Demonspine whip from within. The weapon was a coil of thin, bleached spine and tail bones connected by chain to a handle covered by devilish looking spikes with a serrated blade attached to the end. There was a socket on the end of the handle, presumably for Tialeis’s God Stone, the Megyno Crystal that powered each of the Champions’ weapons.

The man Caze had chosen stepped forward.

The two robed men placed the handle reverently in his hand, allowing the weapon to uncoil.

Lara could feel whispers on the edge of her mind emanating from the whip. It almost...enticed her to take it for herself.

The Tialemancer holding the whip showed no signs of being the Champion.

“That’s too bad.” Caze’s sympathetic tone wasn’t even trying to sound genuine, “Now, if you would please leave this-”

The blaring noise of a warhorn echoed through the city. The Atrellians were back on the offensive.

“Caze, give us the whip!” Lara shouted.

As the two men came to get the whip back from the man, Lara stepped between them, pressing two palms charged by a Stormfler into each of their chests. They cried out in pain, collapsing to the ground.

Lara turned and grabbed onto the whip’s handle, but the man refused to let go. The Tialemancer swung his fist at her, but Lara ducked just in time.

 _He’s Caze’s man!_ She immediately thought.

Lara shoved her knee into the man’s gut, taking the whip for herself.

Upon becoming the only person to touch the whip, a loud blast echoed from somewhere in the palace. A deep violet beam of energy blasted into the sky, through the great hall. Tialeis’s beacon.

But there was no Calling like the Knight. Instead, something crashed through the stone floor which Lara barely caught before it crashed into her palm. It was a Megyno Crystal, flowing with violet, blue and crimson energy. It had a magnetic pull to the whip. Without thinking, she let it go. The stone fit itself perfectly into the socket at the bottom of the handle, releasing a shockwave of energy.

And then her consciousness left her.

_________________________________

Lara’s eyes snapped open.

The city was far below her, as was the encroaching Atrellian army.

The sound of repeated, slow blasts of air made her turn her head to the right. A giant, stone covered wing flapped, keeping her afloat. They looked like a Night Prince’s.

Her hands were covered in a black, chitinous substance that made her fingers turn to razor sharp claws. All around her, stone-like armor protruded and ripped through her clothing. It came from her own flesh in a weird natural shell that protected her joints and vitals.

In her one hand, she still held the whip. That was the source of this transformation, undeniably.

 _Hello there, Lara._ A deep, growling voice much akin to the noise of a saw cutting through bone sounded in her head.

“What in the Abyss is this?” she muttered, barely able to hear herself over the flapping wings on her back.

_That army’s going to break through this time. You should destroy them._

Right. She needed the whip’s power to hold off the Atrellians. And here they were advancing.

It almost felt natural, using her newly grown wings to dive downwards, accelerating towards the ground, then swooping up over the wall where many citizens had already gathered to hold off the army.

_Open your mouth. Unleash your cry of hatred._

As Lara approached the line of siege engines the Atrellians had put up front, she let her jaw down, exhaling a torrent of thick black smoke that coated the first few ranks of the army.

She could hear them coughing and choking on the gas so acutely. She could see them struggling to breathe even through the smoke.

A ballista bolt raced through the smoke towards her. A tail she hadn’t even known was there caught the bolt mid-flight and snapped it in two.

Arrows simply glanced off her skin, while javelins shattered upon impact.

Lara looked down upon the army that had once been so intimidating to her. It was time for them to fear her. The Emryds were a people not to be trifled with. She would show them her ruthlessness.

Lara landed in the midst of the infantry ranks, throwing up dirt and bodies all around her. She pricked her thumb on a bone attached to the handle, the blood causing each segment of the whip to eject serrated spines and blade with which to cut.

She lashed the whip out, slashing open the torsos of ten men at once. Using the normally odd weapon felt natural as stabbing with a knife. It was as though she had a lifetime of experience with the whip.

She exhaled another cloud of black smoke, evoking screams and gags from the infantrymen.

One brave spearman stabbed at her from behind, slashing her torso. So she could still be hurt. Unfortunate, but not a problem.

Her tail slammed into the spearman, shattering his ribs into crumbs and throwing the body twenty feet or so.

Lara went to advance on the regrouping ranks, but her legs were suddenly completely encased in ice. Though, it was no trouble to shatter the bindings with her new strength.

While she looked down to break out her left foot, a ballista bolt slammed into her right wing, tearing through the flesh. Lara cried out in part pain, part rage.

She ran towards the ballista, getting close enough to grapple the machine with the whip. She slammed the ballista into a trebuchet, sending splintered wood everywhere.

It wasn’t long before all the siege engines were focused on her. Ballista bolts and boulders launched from catapults and trebuchets came in a hail of projectiles. She attempted to deflect the bolts out of the sky with the whip, but the boulders she had to dodge.

They were growing too numerous and before long, she took one straight to the chest. She slid across the dirt with the boulder. As she lifted it off her, a ballista bolt pierced a chink in her torso armor. She hacked up blood, falling to her knees.

But the Emryds had gotten onto the field, advancing past her body as they launched their flers and weapons at the Atrellians. As she lost consciousness, she heard the Atrellian war horns call for retreat.


	16. Chapter 15: The Hand of Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund travels to the ancient city of Ansam to meet with the Saint-Minister, the possessor of the Clarion Stone and the leader of all Bronduk's followers.

“Praise be to the Knight!”

The words echoed from nowhere, yet everywhere at once.

That was the Calling. A Champion’s summons to their God’s most holy site to claim their Stone of Power.

There was no denying it. He was the Knight. And the weapon in his hands was the real sword of legends: Shadowbane.

Edmund’s eyes glanced back down to the saber in his hands. Yes. He saw it now. The golden embroidery, the pristine condition of a sword older than most civilizations.

Camilla and Pasco slowly lowered their guard around the skeleton, as it wasn’t attacking anymore.

“Who are you?” Edmund asked the skeleton.

“My name is Nuth’gu, sir.” The skeleton cordially bowed, “I am a Fallen One, an eternal guardian of the Ansam Empire. I was to watch over Shadowbane until its rightful owner came to claim it.”

“Edmund...you’re the Knight…” Pasco muttered, more to himself, “How?”

Edmund glanced at Camilla. She said nothing, but her eyes showed a sort of...sorrow in them.

He looked back to Fallen One, “What happened here?” Edmund demanded, “With the dead body of my sister outside.”

“A few years ago, I was finally given a task by Master Caze: To guard Shadowbane. The one outside came to steal it away. Master Caze’s Morgauls killed her.”

“Who were these Morgauls?” Edmund said through gritted teeth.

“One of them was named Dregu, I believe.” Nuth’gu rasped.

“Dregu?” Edmund muttered. The name sounded familiar. Where had he...the battlefield! The leader of that flanking horde. He’d come face to face with Kaitlyn’s murderer and not even known. His grip around the saber tightened, his knuckles whitening.

“Edmund?” Camilla asked.

He sighed, “We should...we should go back. Answer the Calling before they start looking.”

Camilla nodded, “Alright. But what about...him.” She gestured to Nuth’gu.

Edmund turned to the skeleton, “What exactly do you do now that I have Shadowbane?”

“I simply return to my slumber until another of Ansami descent has a task for me.” the skeleton said, “Please do not stop for my sake.”

Edmund nodded before he, Camilla and Pasco left the room. They returned to the entrance of the facility and pressed the tile in the mound of dirt to return them to the surface with their horses.

The ride back was mostly silent, save for Pasco occasionally attempting to naively start a conversation.

Edmund found himself looking at nothing. His grip on his reigns was rigid and unmoving, eyes still stuck open wide. His mind was still fuzzy and he felt sick to his stomach. Yet also...euphoric?

His mind kept asking ‘how’ over and over again, receiving no satisfying answer.

He was the Knight.

He was. The Knight.

He. Was. The. Knight.

The Knight.

His face had stretched in a grimace as his mind repeated those words, trying to make them sound truer. But each time he stated that fact, he became more exhausted.

And then there was...Kaitlyn. Admittedly, he never had remembered her face well. In fact, he barely knew the real her. All he had was a nostalgia-poisoned fantasy of what he would’ve liked her to be like.

Yet, everytime he recalled that lonely, abandoned corpse in the hallways, he felt a pang of a deep sadness he’d never felt before. It was very similar to helplessness. And by Bronduk, did he hate helplessness.

But he wasn’t helpless. He knew her killer. He could avenge her. Although...would that really do anything?

Amongst all these doubts, he didn’t register the voice calling to him.

“...Edmund!”

Edmund snapped his head up towards the voice. It was Pasco. They were back in the fort.

“Get off your damned horse, Isley.” Pasco said.

“Right.” Edmund muttered, sliding off his horse. There was already a small crowd gathering around him.

They’d all seen and heard the Calling. All of the Continent had.

Edmund flinched away as hands reached out to touch him, the people murmuring praise. They were crowding him, taking away his ability to be unseen. He never realized how much he liked that feeling until now.

He made his way as best he could to the keep, where Elius and the General were waiting for him. Elius had a big smile plastered to his face.

“I knew there was something special about you.” the Archcaster said.

“I’d say this makes him ready, doesn’t it?” Thorne asked.

“That is assuming we are allowed to keep him on the Morgaul front, General.” Elius said, “We must report this to the Saint-Minister at once.”

________________________________________________________

Edmund wrinkled his nose.

The smell of salt on the sea did not bring back fond memories. But this time, he wasn’t stuck on a prisoner transport. He was headed for the Atrellian homeland in a luxury vessel to meet with the Saint-Minister, leader of the Church of Bronduk and foremost of the Kairolists.

A sighting of land had been called a while ago as they approached the city of Ansam, once the base of the Ansami empire and now the base of the Atrellian.

Edmund could see the city from their position in the ocean, full to the brim with structures taller and more pristine than anything that could be built with modern day techniques.

“Into the belly of the beast, we go.” Pasco muttered as he came up beside Edmund.

“I always thought I’d be more excited to see the largest city in the world.” Edmund sighed, “But I feel like I’m being brought as a trophy to show off to the Saint-Minister.”

Their ship entered the Ansami harbor a while later. The surrounding land that protected the harbor was covered in old, ruined battlements from the old empire.

The boat docked at one of the many piers along the harbor and Edmund was finally allowed on land. He disembarked, followed by Pasco and Camilla.

Elius came off the ship soon after.

“We haven’t a second to lose, Edmund.” Elius said, “We’ll go see the Saint-Minister first.

The buildings in Ansam were even more bizarre up close. The cityscape was covered in twisting metal spires and buildings seemingly carved from one continuous rock, yet perfectly chiseled into a living space.

Elius led them through a bustling city, full of busy Trwaj and Pious. They all kept their heads down as they walked to wherever they needed to go.

Overhead, Roilborn angels soared. They watched the people with unwavering vigilance.

Summoned by the Kairolists, the Roilborn enforced Bronduk’s will on the people. It was another abuse of power.

As was usual to any Atrellian city, the Church was the most spectacular building. But Ansam didn’t just have any Church. This was the Cathedral of Ages, tall as any spire, layered in tons of gold and silver, sculpted from stone with only the most delicate and skilled hands and a symbol of architecture across the world.

Edmund found the marvel daunting rather than splendid like Pasco. It more or less represented everything he hated about Atrell. The belly of the beast was a rather apt description of his arrival here.

Edmund was ushered in by a hurried Elius and a reassuring nudge from Camilla.

The inside was even more elaborate. Almost overly so, with its plentiful statues, giant mosaics, paintings and religious relics put on display, including a glass case where Shadowbane should’ve been.

Edmund was met by two men dressed completely in immaculate white uniforms. They wore masks like the Enforcers and carried spears that looked more for show then for use.

“Please allow the Knight to come to see her holiness alone.” The soldiers said in unison. Edmund recoiled at the unsettling feeling he was getting from them.

“Of course.” Elius nodded, looking at Edmund.

Edmund let out a small sigh and took a few apprehensive steps forward until the soldiers cut him off from his friends.

He didn’t bother looking back, lest the serenity of the Church be disturbed by something he wasn’t watching for.

Edmund was ushered out of the hall of art and display cases, into the chapel. It was a domed room covered in a giant continuous painting on its ceiling. Rows about rows of pews surrounded a central platform, which bore a stone statue of Hybald and his guardian angel, Nadriel.

A singular woman kneeled at the base of the statue.

“Your holiness.” The soldiers spoke in unison again, “He has returned.”

The woman, with unparalleled grace, got to her feet, “Good. Leave us.”

The soldiers bowed and evacuated the chapel.

The woman turned to face Edmund. She was...surprisingly young. The leader of their entire religion was no older than her late twenties. She had a short, slim figure with unblemished reddish skin of Atrellians and a head of styled brownish black hair.

She was draped in pure white linens. No gold, no jewels.

“Edmund Isley.” Her voice was smooth and hypnotic. Like Camilla’s, but far less playful, “You’ve been the talk of the chapel these past few weeks.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your holiness.” Edmund bowed.

“Drop the formality, please.” The Saint-Minister said, “You and I are equals in the eyes of Bronduk. I am his tongue, you are his hand.”

Edmund nodded, “Of course.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you as well, Edmund.” The Saint-Minister started to pace atop her platform. A jingling of metal caused Edmund to glance at her bare feet. A silver shackle was locked around her ankle with a short chain to keep her confined to the podium.

“Er...is that…” Edmund started.

“This is the chain that keeps me and protects me from the corruption of the world. When I am not bogged down by darkness, I am free.” The Saint-Minister explained, much to Edmund’s confusion, “It is also a reminder of my duty as a leader. I am a servant to my people.”

Edmund almost rolled his eyes. How could she say that with a straight face?

“Do you ever get to leave?” He asked.

“There is no key to this shackle. It was forged from the near indestructible metal the Ansam used long ago. So, no.”

“You can’t leave the chapel?” Edmund asked.

“I was declared Saint Minister five years ago. I haven’t seen the world outside once since then.”

Edmund put it together. How could she know about all the atrocities her country committed? She only knew what was told to her.

“But, all that talk is for another time.” The Saint-Minister said, “We have other matters to discuss.”

“Go ahead.” Edmund said.

“First off, your position as Knight. You must understand it.” The Minister said, “You are a spiritual leader, not a political one. Though this country of ours is a theocracy, we have less power than the Emperor and his council does.”

“I gathered that, considering the general bossed me around like it was nobody’s business.” Edmund muttered.

“Second, I have a gift for you.”

The Saint-Minister padded over to the statue of Hybald.

“The day you discovered Shadowbane, a beacon of light shot into the sky from our most prized possession.” The Saint-Minister removed a small crystal from the stone replica of Shadowbane in Hybald’s hands. It glowed with a faint golden light, “This is a God Stone. Do you know what that is?”

Edmund nodded, “Indestructible Megyno Crystals filled with the power of gods. That the Clarion Stone, isn’t it? Bronduk’s stone.”

“Indeed it is.” She returned to him, the stone delicately held in both hands, “Take this, but do not place it in your weapon.”

“I’ve heard the legends about this thing...but how does it work?” Edmund asked.

“It’s been a hundred years since our last Champion died. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.” The Saint-Minister said, “but I would like you to trust it to the hands of Lord Elius until you finish your flerical training.”

“So you want me to stay on the Morgaul front?”

The Minister nodded, “Atrell is being driven back from Emreth. Did you know that?”

Edmund shook his head, “Really?”

“They’ve also acquired their Champion. The Warlock has risen again.” The Minister said, “Sooner or later, you will have to face them. The Warlock is rarely an individual satisfied with only defense. They will come after Atrell eventually.”

Edmund nodded, “I’ll be ready.”

“Lastly, I’ve received a prophecy I was meant to impart to you.” the Saint-Minister said, “Someone within your circle does not have your best interests at heart.”

“You mean there’s a traitor?” Edmund asked.

“Perhaps. I can only say what Bronduk allows me to say and see what he allows me to see.”

Edmund gritted his teeth. A traitor? For who? Morgaul? Did Morgaul even allow humans to work for them?

The Saint-Minister said, “Now return to your friends. No matter what happens, make sure the Clarion Stone remains safe. Otherwise, you spell destruction for all Atrell.”

_______________________________________________________________________________

Dregu hopped down from his horse.

The smell of smoke invaded his nostrils as a flaming village lit up the night.

His marauders had corralled the villagers into a small area, lances pointed inwards. Dregu scowled at the villagers as two shamans joined him at the sides. One male, one female.

Their fragile bodies were given up for the mental capacity to memorize their rites and rituals. Such was the Affliction. The pestilence that influenced all of Morgaul kind, save for him.

"Behold!" The male shaman shouted, "The Marksman of Morgaul! A pureblood born of two Morgauls, free from the Affliction! Show him the reverence he deserves, for he was born from the blood of Idros himself!"

Dregu stepped forward, confronting the villagers. They all cowered, not a weapon in hand. Pathetic, especially for Morgauls.

"They called us broken!" The female shaman announced, "They called us slaves and cast us to the desolate wastes! But we forged on! Led by Idros, our ancestors escaped the chains and bonds of humanity!"

"Look upon yourselves. Look upon your village." Dregu said, "See how weak it has made you? You, members of the Morgaul race, have deigned to settle yourselves like the humans. They called you a slave and you agreed. You disgrace our ancestors who fought for our freedom!"

"Please, Pure One! We have seen the error of our ways!" A man pleaded, "We beg you to have mercy on us!"

Dregu cast a glare down at the man, "Tell me, _gersleav_. What were you in this place?"

"I, er...we do not have a word for it, Pure One." The man said.

"So you were a _dwalkyrshi_." Dregu spat the Atrellian word, "You plowed the land? Gathered from the fields?"

The man nodded.

"I wonder how all that scythe work made you with a spear." Dregu muttered, "I challenge you, on behalf of your village, to a duel. If I win, I will prescribe your fate. If you win, you are guaranteed safe passage back to your original clan and will be free from the Exile."

The man's greyish skin paled as his large brow morphed into an expression of worry.

"Of course, anyone else may take up the challenge in his stead." Dregu addressed the other villagers, "In fact, I will allow two of you to challenge me at once. I will not use the Lygaroz."

Dregu took the ornate, incredibly light bow off his shoulder and handed it to the shamans, who took it, handling the weapon with great reverence.

"I will fight with him!" A female shouted, as a lean figure stood.

Dregu cocked his head. The woman was far smaller than her fellow villagers. But not in the shriveled, near deathly way the shamans were. She had muscle. Just...not much of it. She was a halfbreed. Very rare, since all Morgauls procreated with other species to slow the Affliction anyway and still ended up with full Morgaul children.

"Very well, _chyhùldultid_." Dregu said, "Let us hope that the unfortunate prevalence of human blood in you does not hold you back."

Dregu's soldiers handed each of the combatants a spear as they walked away from the villagers.

" _Idraagz._ " The male shaman called to the sky in a more archaic form of Morgaul, " _Myes eg egtsa, khesh ba dyn eigt chyhyursi sai ehyugleiav._ "

"Idros." Dregu and the two villagers chanted as they were handed their weapons, "Guardian of Gales, see that this duel is fair and honorable for all."

" _Bem!_ " The shaman shouted.

The woman was fast. Surprisingly fast. She launched off her back foot towards Dregu at lightning speed. Though speed did not always mean power. He knew that more than anyone.

Dregu slammed the end of his spear into the rapidly incoming woman's gut. Her eyes shot open as the breath was pushed from her lungs and her momentum was stopped in its tracks.

She collapsed to the ground. Talented, but untrained and sloppy.

Dregu launched his spear at the bigger, yet more timid man, slashing his arm open. The man yelped and dropped his spear, falling over as blood sprayed from the wound.

Dregu kicked the woman's spear into his hands and positioned the tip at her throat.

"Victory is mine." Dregu growled.

An arrow whizzed past Dregu, cutting off the man's groans of pain as it sunk into his chest. Dregu whirled around to his soldiers.

"Did I tell you to kill them?" He roared.

The man responsible flinched, "But…"

"They are your brothers and sisters of Morgaul, damnit! How dare you!"

"My sincerest apologies, Pure One." The archer muttered.

Dregu sighed, "Never kill one of your own unless I tell you. And that goes for all of you, understand?"

"You're...not going to kill us?" The woman grunted from under his spear.

Dregu shook his head, "It would be a waste."

"How," the woman coughed, "How dishonorable. To not grant your opponent's death. Pure One, my ass."

"I will not be mocked by you, _chyhùldultid_." Dregu said calmly.

"The Physician certainly has quite the grip around our balls, eh?"

Dregu flipped the spear over and knocked the woman out.


	17. Chapter 16: Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara decides to eradicate the demons of her past once and for all.

Lara groaned as consciousness returned to her.

The first thing she noticed was how awful her back hurt. Second was that she was bedridden.

Lara sat up to find that Gammond was sitting next to her bed in a chair, fast asleep and a half finished ball of scrap metal and wiring in his hands.

“Gam?” Lara moaned, “Gam.”

Gammond jolted awake, nearly dropping his project. His surprise morphed into a wide smile when he saw her. “You’re awake.” He said with relief.

“What...what happened?” Lara groaned, “My head...oh gods.”

“Medic!” Gammond called. A man in a white coat entered the room and started casting a Faithfler, soothing Lara’s pain.

Eventually, the aching faded completely, so she waved the Preserver away.

“You alright?” Gammond asked.

Lara nodded.

“Good.”

“I...I remember something, Gammond. From before I blacked out. I was a demon. I had wings. I could fly, Gam.”

“I know,” he smiled kindly, “I saw you.”

“Oh,” Lara looked down sheepishly.

“You look ashamed.” Gammond said.

“I am.” She sighed, “I...I lost control of myself. I...killed.”

“Only to protect our city. Lara, you were incredible.” Gammond insisted, “Thanks to you, we were able to rout the Atrellians back to Maladeth. What you did was far beyond simple murder. You ensured the futures of free Emryds everywhere.”

“I’m certain the king won’t be happy about me taking a holy relic, though.” Lara muttered.

Gammond took an anticipatory breath, “That would be the case if the monarchy was still in power.”

Lara furrowed her brow, “What?”

“After the Atrellians were pushed back, the King Regent took both the Cruelty Stone and the princess and fled.” Gammond sighed, “My worst fears for this country are coming true. The Territorylords are taking power and frankly, I think Emreth is going to see civil war once the Atrellians are pushed out.”

“What about Imryt?” Lara asked.

“My father has managed to establish an assembly of representatives from most people groups and corporations, but none of them expect it to last.” Gammond said, “We can afford to let you recover for a while, but once the Atrellians regroup, we’ll be in some hot shit. We need you to lead a final attack against them and push them out of the Norwyn lands.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Why you?” Gammond exclaimed, “Lara, you’re the Warlock! You’re the only person who can unite Emreth. The only thing close would be if the god Tialeis himself marched onto the battlefield.”

“Gammond, I’m not a military commander.” Lara protested.

“But you're a symbol, Lara. You’re hope for the Emryds.” Gammond said.

“That...attacking the Atrellians. That would include killing my uncle, wouldn’t it?”

Gammond blinked, “Oh shit. I’m sorry, I forgo-”

“No.” Lara cut him off, “I want to take his life.”

Lara’s heart burned as she remembered her uncle. Before coming to Emreth, she would’ve seen Godric Spetyll as an unbeatable shadow that would haunt her for the rest of her days. But now things were different. She was powerful. She could fight him.

“You...you never did talk about him much.” Gammond muttered, “Forgive me, but I'm curious.”

“It’s no trouble. Not anymore.” Lara said. She was strong enough to face those demons now, wasn’t she?

“What happened?” Gammond asked.

Lara took a deep breath, “Godric Spetyll is a sniveling coward of a man with no values and no soul.” She clenched her fist. “When I was nine years old, he raped me for the first time.”

In the side of her vision, she saw Gammond’s concerned expression hint at one of horror.

“He continued to do so for three years.” Lara spat, “He brought other noblemen to bed me. They paid him to have their way with me. Someone must’ve found out, because once I turned twelve, he was shipped off here to command some of the army.”

“Gods and champions, Lara…” Gammond mumbled hollowly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” she said, “It wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of the grown, old man who was so weak, he felt it appropriate to prey on a child. He came back a few months ago. I tried to defend myself when he tried to kill me. That’s how I ended up arrested.

Lara gritted her teeth, “It wasn’t just him, either. My mother sat back and did nothing when she knew he was coming. She failed to even let me, her own damn child, that the man who had raped her was going to be attending a ball until three minutes before the event! And my sister, who gets off thinking she’s better than me! And it wasn’t because she was a flerfinger! I saw it in her eyes, Gammond! She thought I was damaged goods and less than human for it!”

She heaved, her muscles tensed with rage.

“Sorry.” She muttered.

Gammond shook his head, “You should say more. Looks like you need it.”

Lara sighed, “I’ve never really...talked about this before.”

“Well, you can talk about it with me.”

“I never could talk about it.” Lara said, “In Atrell, they take away who you are. You aren’t Lara the girl with a passion for flers. You’re Miss Shawe, a noble heiress. You’re not Edmund Isley, the man just trying to get by. You’re the criminal. The Snake. They take our souls from us at birth, Gammond. They take our voices and our faces and everything we have in this life, all to serve the greater cause of the Empire.

“But you and Lucia showed me. You showed me Emreth’s culture and what it means to be a person. An individual. I think that’s something worth fighting for.” Lara looked to Gammond, “I’ll help you. I’ll drive them out of this land. And if they don’t leave of their own will, I’ll crush them to dust! I’ll help you save your country. But in return, I need you to help me reclaim myself from Atrell.”

Gammond stood from his seat, a determined glare in his eyes, “Anything.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll do anything I can to get you what they owe.”

_________________________________________________________

The Emryd territory of Maladeth was the final stronghold Atrell had in the Norwyn Lands. It was incredible to think that a war started before Lara was born could be put to an end so quickly.

Black snow, a combination of the settling winter and ash from the mountains, drifted down from the night sky. Lara had wrapped herself in a black fur coat to stave off the unfamiliar cold. Winters in Ivanderton and the Suden Lands were far more tame. She sat in a small, isolated crevasse that sat above the rest of the Emryd encampment.

All of Imryt and its surrounding territory had gathered a militia sizable enough to push the Atrellians out forever.

However, the grand strategy behind it was up to Gammond and the remaining military commanders to figure out. Lara was just a glorified footsoldier. But she didn’t really see anything wrong with that. Her power was in flers and a will to fight, not a tactical mind.

Her real challenge would be facing Spetyll again.

“How are you holding up?” Gammond appeared in her peripheral vision from behind.

Lara shrugged, staring down the outer mountains of the Ash Rim towards the actual city of Maladeth which they’d neglected to pass through last time. White and green banners bearing the Great Oak were draped over the walls.

“I could be better.” Lara muttered.

“So could I.” Gammond said, “We’re outnumbered ten to one. Not only that, but we’re also launching a siege instead of being besieged. The numbers wouldn’t matter if we were still fighting from the Rim.”

“What’s the plan?” Lara asked, “Just out of curiosity.”

“Our first thought was to attack during the Fifth Day. We thought they’d lower their guard to celebrate the new year, but it’s looking to be less and less of a possibility.” Gammond sighed, “We can’t just bombard the city either, since most of the city is made up of Emryd citizens.”

“Any particular way you think we could attack?” Lara asked.

Gammond shook his head, “No matter how we go at it, we’ll be stuck in a prolonged siege. We don’t have the men to supply that sort of thing. We don’t even have enough troops to starve them out.”

“And knowing Atrell, they’d probably push out the Pious and Snakes first, keeping all the food for the military.” Lara said.

“And they call us ruthless.” Gammond scoffed, “Ironic.”

Lara chuckled a bit.

“Just in case we end up going with some plan with a more than forty percent chance of getting you killed, I, uh...made you something.” Gammond muttered.

“Oh? Do tell.” Lara smiled at him, causing him to glance away in embarrassment. His attempts to cast aside his demeanor in order to be genuine were kind of cute.

Gammond cleared his throat, “The days before we started marching I finished up a huge project I’d been working on. It’s, uh...a replica of some Pre-Collapse technology.”

“Well now I have to see it.” Lara said.

Gammond pulled out a small chestplate made of metal with a small golden socket in the center, “This is sort of a recreation of Roilmail that the Champions used to fight the Titans. The inside is a mesh of wires that equally disperse Megyno energy around you in a spherical projection with an ener-”

“As fascinating as all the science is, I’d like to know what it does so I can appreciate you for it.” Lara offered a warm expression to ease him a little. As confident as he acted, she knew it took a lot for him to be sentimental.

Gammond cleared his throat a second time, “It, uh, makes a protective field of energy around you so you don’t…you know, die too fast. You can power it with a Megyno Crystal.”

Lara blinked with genuine shock, “Gammond, that’s incredible. You taught yourself how to do this?”

Gammond shrugged, “More or less.”

“Isn’t this a big deal to your career? I mean, you could make millions of whatever currency you wanted off this sort of technology. Shouldn’t you keep it?” Lara asked.

“I have all the notes down. Most of my powers won’t be much help in an open battlefield, so I wanted to-”

Lara wrapped Gammond in a tight embrace that nearly froze him solid. She let go of him and took the chest piece, looking at the fine craftsmanship of the network of wires under the metal.

“Thank you, Gam.” she smiled.

Gammond nodded, “You’re uh, you’re welcome.”

“Gam.”

Lucia, dressed in the black and blue military uniform of Emreth stood in the entrance of Lara’s hiding spot.

“The Commanders have a new plan they want to pitch.” The Auriok said.

“Sorry.” Gammond turned to Lara, “Duty calls.”

“It’s fine.” Lara assured him.

“Actually, I’m gonna need both of you.” Lucia beckoned them over with a wave of her hand.

Lara frowned. What could they need her for if this was just a pitch?

Lucia led them down to the encampment among the mountains and into the largest of the tents set up within it.

Men and women of various shapes and sizes yelled and argued with each other about troop numbers, supply lines and flanks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please calm yourselves.” Gammond said, exerting immense mental pressure with a Lawfler’s third ability to pacify emotions. Gammond’s effect was powerful, but more widespread, so a general wave of calmness washed over the room, “What’s this plan you’ve been discussing?”

A woman with no hair and a pattern of tattoos across her bald head cleared her throat, “We’re still working out the kinks, but we believe there is another option aside from straight out attack.”

“Explain.” Gammond ordered.

“Well, because it’s impossible to hold an extended siege with our current numbers, we need a way to get our troops inside the city without the other army noticing. At least there, our technological advantages will have a greater effect.” The woman said.

“And what do you propose we do for that?” asked Gammond.

“Some of us are more ambitious with the plan than others, but the general idea is to call Nightprinces to drop troops into enemy borders from the skies.”

“Do we even have the resources to call Roilborn?” Gammond exclaimed, “You all know how much Megyno it takes to summon a Nightprince, don’t you?”

“We do, sir.” a male commander stood, “So some of us are proposing that we instead just try to get a small strike force in behind the walls to sabotage defenses or take out the chain of command. Which gets us into another division.”

“The only way I would allow this would be for the small strike team. It would take up a quarter of our current Megyno reserves to call enough Nightprinces to carry just a single squad without repeating trips.” Gammond said, “And assuming I even went through with this, who would we send?”

One by one, the eyes of the commanders drifted to Lara.

Gammond glanced at her, then back to them, “Absolutely not.”

“Sir, the only way we can make this last push without a united Emreth is by using every tool we have at our disposal!” the bald woman argued.

“I will not sacrifice our Champion no matter the circumstance!” Gammond retorted.

“Our champion?” another commander asked, “You mean your mistress.”

“What?” Lucia screeched, “You thick skulled cow-munchers haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about!”

“We refuse to share in the religious reverence our general holds for this girl!”

“I will not tolerate any more insults to the chain of-”

“He was only a major before the monarchy fell! Why does he get to be a general?”

“Gods and Champions, I’ll do it!” Lara shouted above all of the bickering leaders. They all silenced themselves, “If it’ll get you all to keep your mouths shut, I’ll do it.”

Gammond frowned, “Lara, if you don’t want to…”

“Gam, I’d be remiss if I didn’t make use of my powers to help push Atrell out.” Lara said.

“They’re likely to have more skilled Sparkers within the city. Shadowflers may not cut it.” Gammond said.

“It’s not like I’d be defenseless. Plus the real issue with having smaller numbers comes from being outside the city. I’ll be fine.” Lara refuted.

Gammond took an unsettled breath, but seemed to accept her assertion, “Alright. You and eight other covert operatives. I’ll help draw up a list of tasks and hand them to you before you go to sleep tonight. Are these terms agreeable?” he turned back to the commanders.

They murmured amongst themselves, but most seemed satisfied.

“Good.” Their general said.

As they converged to start drawing plans, Lara made the mistake of staying to weigh in with her opinions. She found herself eventually nodding to sleep at the table.

________________________________________________________________

“ _Banga glyu shve drachax j̈ür ngonga, wræ kvür tsxümi ngwæljwo sngö strær skodha draz rüspa, Tialeis!_ ”

Emryd priest chanted while casting Megyno dust into a roaring fire that had turned a dull purple from the energy. They continued to beckon the Nightprince out in the old Ansami language.

Lara had never witnessed the summoning of any Roilborn before. Watching the summoning of angels was forbidden to all save the Kairolists and the Emperor’s kin. And, she supposed, the Knight now that he had been found.

The violet flames swirled up, coalescing in a cyclone of heat before a shockwave of energy passed through Lara.

The fire was extinguished, replaced by a stone-covered demon, fifteen feet tall with glowing red eyes.

“How may I serve, Warlock of Tialeis?” The demon’s words were guttural roars mixed with a booming, commanding voice.

“I need you to take me and eight others to the city of Maladeth and drop us in discreetly.” Lara commanded. As the Warlock, Nightprinces obeyed her regardless of what they received in return.

“Yes, mistress.” The demon growled, offering his hand.

Lara stepped on his palm and he lifted her onto his neck. The other operatives, a combination of flerfingers, allowed themselves to be scooped up in the demon’s arms.

“Lara.” Gammond’s voice called out, “Good luck.”

Lara nodded at him with a reassuring demeanor as the Nightprince lifted them off the ground with a slow flap of his wings. Another flap took them above the tree. Another took them high enough to see Maladeth in its entirety.

The Nightprince propelled them towards the city with one last flap, somehow soaring on the winds with its gigantic body.

Lara glanced down, a little voice from her instincts telling her to hold on for her life. But as the Night prince flew over, she didn’t hesitate to leap from the creature’s back.

The other operatives followed her, each of them pulling out large sheets of fabric that slowed their falls. Lara’s feet softly hit the flat stone roof of a taller building, not hesitating to cast a Shadowfler and vanishing into the darkness.

In the monochrome veil of her fler, she could see the other operatives who’d also cloaked themselves. They each split off in groups of two to sabotage or disrupt a myriad of things.

She only had one job: Kill Godric Spetyll.

Lara stood, casting her gaze out to the governor’s house where Spetyll likely resided. Her hand went to grab the hilt of her whip on her belt.

With a running start, Lara leapt across an alleyway to the next roof over. She kept with her momentum, bounding across the rooftops with an agility she never had used before. As she experienced this ability she’d always had, but never used, she realized something.

She was powerful. The Nobles were weak and plump, like pigs bred to be slaughtered. That’s how Atrell worked. The strong were slaves to the weak. She was a slave. But no longer. Spetyll would know her power. And he would die, quivering in fear.

A grin spread across Lara’s face.

Tonight, I free myself, she thought.

Lara used the house’s short walls around the property to spring onto a second floor balcony of the mansion.

Silently, she slipped through the door, into a hallway.

No guards. Or at least, not yet.

The Sparkers here would be too powerful to hide from using Shadowflers. In order to conserve energy, Lara returned to visibility and color returned to her vision. She instead turned on a Stormfler, giving her the ability to sense fler usage within a few yards.

Two pulses came from around a corner. She expanded the range slightly in exchange for more drain on her reserves. Five. No, eight. Ten. Ten down the one hallway. None in any other direction.

Lara shut off her Stromfler and ate another God Shard. She grabbed a fist full of black powder from a pouch on her hip. She cast it around the corner, igniting it with a Nihilfler.

She immediately tried to turn away as the powder exploded with a resonant blast that sent Lara to the ground, but scarred the guards far worse from the sounds of groaning and screaming.

Scrambling to her feet, Lara checked on the damage she’d caused. Two of the guards were unconscious as the other eight were getting over their shock.

Several of the Enforcers grabbed handfuls of small iron spheres from pouches and launched them. Lara flattened herself against the ground as the balls whizzed over her and chipped away parts of the stone walls.

From the ground, Lara sprung up, lashing out with her whip and striking the nearest Enforcer with the serrated blades of the spine. Blood splattered upwards, across the ceiling. As that same Enforcer began to fall, the Demonspine whip coiled itself around his throat and lacerated it as Lara pulled the whip back to her, crimson flying out around the floor.

The Enforcers took a moment to glance at the fallen comrade and the weapon that had killed him.

“The Warlock!” one of them shouted, “Get Lord Spetyll out!”

“Don’t even try.” Lara growled, slashing his chest open with a pair of lashes that create a giant X in his torso.

She maneuvered the weapon, attempting to catch the Enforcer that started running by the ankle, but he lifted himself off the ground with a blast of wind.

The remaining Enforcers responded by launching another volley of metal spheres. Lara couldn’t react quick enough to dodge. Three of them were deflected in midair by a shimmering field of light that appeared around her. Gammond’s chestplate was working wonderfully.

Lara charged forward, grabbing the whip with both hands. She ducked under a swipe from a gladius blade and wrapped the whip around the wielder’s throat. She pulled, pressing his back to hers and impaling his jugular with the whip’s edges.

The other Enforcers took the opportunity to exert the combined flerical force on top of her. The typical move of arrest.

She was flattened to the stone floor.

“Warlock of Emreth, you’re under-”

Black powder exploded, sending the Enforcers sliding across the ground. Lara got to her feet, perfectly fine. Except for the shattered crystal that fell out from her chestplate. She had no way to replace the power source.

But the rest of the Enforcers were unconscious.

Lara broke the wooden doors of the master suite open with a powerful kick. Spetyll was there in a silk robe next to the Enforcer who’d been sent for him.

The Enforcer stretched out his arm, “Stand down!”

He was trying to pacify her. Unfortunately for him, she no longer feared Enforcement.

Lara wrapped her serrated whip around his arm, pulling on it. The Enforcer was sent to the ground with a thousand cuts in his arm and screaming in pain.

Spetyll simply stared at her.

“So Emreth has finally found its champion, eh?” he grinned, “And yet they use you as a petty assassin.”

“Your manipulative tongue won’t persuade me to let you go.”

“Oh, but of course it will. Everyone wants something. Tell me assassin, what do you want? You’ll have it.”

“I want to finish what I started on your face.” Lara growled.

Spetyll’s eyes went wide, his hand shooting up to the burn mark on his cheek, “Lara? Oh thank the gods! Come girl, we need to get you home to Atrell. You’ll be far safer with me than those frightening Emryds, right?”

Lara paused before letting out a small chuckle, “Incredible. No matter what I do. No matter what I become, you still see me as a doll you can toy with.”

“Stop your rambling, girl.” Spetyll ordered, “Your father is worried.”

“My father thinks I’m dead. My mother does too. So did you until just now. And the first thing you do is try to get me on a leash again.” Lara white-knuckled her whip.

“What?”

“You don’t get it, Spetyll.” Lara stepped forward, into the moonlight coming in from his window, “I’m not your plaything. I’m your worst nightmare.”

“Stand down, girl!” Spetyll roared, “Or I’ll feed you to my soldiers.”

“How can you be so blind.” Lara lashed out her whip, wrapping it around Spetyll’s arm.

He glanced at it, then to her, “You wouldn’t dare.” He glowered.

Lara pulled.

Blood splattered from the hundred cuts now in his left forearm. Spetyll roared in agony.

“I’m not the timid little girl you could bully into sleeping with you, Uncle!” Lara spat, “I’m the one with the power now!”

Spetyll quieted, heaving, “We’ll see about that, you little she-devil.”

Her uncle tossed something into his mouth. Not a God Shard. Was that….crushed up crystals? Pure crystal?

Spetyll glared at her, “Submit!”

An overwhelming mental force came over her like the one that did that night at the ball. A command. It was a Lawfler. Just far more powerful.

But Lara could fight. She resisted the command to the best of her ability, her legs starting to buckle, wanting her to get on her knees. It got to a point where she could no longer take it.

But before she fell, she went invisible, replacing herself with an illusion via a Shadowfler.

_No! You will die before he sees you kneel to him again! She roared mentally._

Spetyll’s face fell as Lara remained standing, “H-How?”

Lara felt the weight come off her mind and stood once more, erasing the illusion.

Before she could answer him, her uncle’s face contorted in anger before he assaulted her with a blast of force. It was far greater than any Lawfler, powerful enough to shatter the windows.

Lara soared into the wooden doors, crashing through them. And landing on the stone floor of the hallway.

“Submit to me!” Spetyll shouted.

Another wave of suppression came over her mind. It prevented her from pushing herself up. But she pushed. Inch by unrelenting inch, she tried to get to her feet.

Lara shot a deathly glare into Spetyll’s soul. His mental pressure weakened from the intimidation, but only for a moment.

“How dare you challenge me, girl! You’re nothing but a broken dog, a halfbreed with a filthy savage!” Spetyll roared, “You will lie down and obey your betters! You’ve never been without someone to do everything for you! What makes you think you suddenly count as a person even when you offer no worth?”

It was a little trickle that was let out from the mental dam Lara had built up in her river of insecurities and doubts.

That trickle became a spout as Spetyll’s superpowered flers increased their intensity.

Lara collapsed to one knee.

_NO!_

She grit her teeth, heaving, fighting to resist the temptation to prostrate herself.

A series of footsteps clamped towards them. Spetyll gasped, “Guards! Draw the flerical power out of this one and cast her into the dungeon!”

_I WILL NOT BOW! NOT TO HIM!_

Flerical energy surged through her veins, her first fler, the Nihilfler, unleashing the most powerful of its capabilities.

Lara felt the mental weight lift off her shoulders. She stumbled to her feet, heaving and sweating. She still had to fight to remain in control of herself. Every instinct screamed at her consciousness to destroy everyone and everything around her. But it was better than fighting his will.

 _It would be too merciful. Too easy._ She repeated it to herself over and over again to keep herself from killing him.

_Focus on the task at hand._

Lara whirled around, lashing her whip out. The six guards that had approached staggered back out of the whips range.

“Unless you wish to end up like the Enforcers in the hall, you will leave!” Lara snarled.

The flerically powerless guards dropped their weapons and fled.

She turned back to Spetyll.

“Wh...what are you? A beast? Some kind of demon? Here on Bronduk’s behalf to punish me?”

Lara cast out her whip, making a loop in the air that landed around Spetyll’s neck. She pulled him in and slammed her elbow into his collar, pinning him to the wall. The serrations on her whip nicked him, but caused no serious harm.

Spetyll coughed violently from the elbow strike.

“Tell me, uncle, those men who cut off your thumb, what would you do to them if they caught you?”

“Whatever I tell you, you will claim to make it ten times worse.” Spetyll growled, “Do what you will. I won’t be offering any ideas.”

Lara frowned at that.

Spetyll let a shit-eating grin spread across his face, “Can’t do it, my dear niece?”

“Don’t call me that!” Lara snapped through grit teeth.

“Here’s the thing, niece, it doesn’t matter if you kill me. You won’t get what you’re looking for.” Spetyll grunted.

“You don’t know shit about me.” Lara snarled.

“Oh, but I do. Your coming here, killing my men, threatening to kill me. It’s all so you can feel like you’re free of me.”

“I’m here to cut out a cyst in humanity.” Lara said.

“Kill me, child. But that won’t change the fact that every night you go to sleep, you fear that you’ll wake up next to me.” Spetyll grinned, “It won’t erase the fact that you will never again be pure. I will haunt you, even in death. Your dreams will be full of memories you can’t wish away. Your heart will kill you with guilt for taking a man’s life. Your head will play tricks on you, never allowing you to think I’m truly dead.”

Lara hesitated, but refused to let her face show it.

“Would you rather live your life in constant terror that I’ll return? Let me live and you can rest assured that I’ll be far, far away from you.” he said, “Or kill me and spend the rest of your days in fear. It’s your choice.”

He was right. She hated-HATED-to admit it. But he was right. She would forever fear him. She would never rest easy. Was she willing to carry that burden? Were those she loved willing to carry that burden?

She wanted him dead, needed him dead. But the cost…

“What do you say?” Spetyll asked, “Be a good girl and release me.”

“I...I think…” Lara muttered, glancing downwards, “I think you’re right.” She loosened her grip on her weapon, letting the spine links clatter to the ground.

“See? Feels better already, doesn’t it?”

Lara met his gaze with a piercing glare, “Death is far too merciful for a roach like you.”

Spetyll frowned, “Wha-”

Lara grabbed a glass vial of liquid from her hip and downed it in one gulp. The vial dropped to the ground.

“I’ve decided that you will not haunt my dreams.” Lara said.

The triplicate combination of Glorekja, Impetallus and Kogniirok surged through her. She embodied the very tenets of strength, knowledge and passion. She was every rebel, every artist and every revolutionary. She was an idealist, a visionary and a creative in that moment.

For a few precious seconds, she was allowed to be herself. Always searching for something greater, hungry for power and freedom. Freedom from everything.

“I will haunt yours.”

From Lara’s view, she just channeled the invisible torrent of power, manifesting cruelty in its purest form within her mind.

But from Spetyll’s, the world itself was destroyed. Down became up, left became right. The moon rose and set while the sun became a crescent. The stone bricks of the house became liquid and his very flesh dissolved into gas. The air became tar and the stars became magma, dripping down from cracks in the sky.

Blue was green, yellow was purple, red ceased to exist, light itself became known to him and totally foreign all at once.

All these changes, all the essence of the new world came from that which stood before him. The contorting nightmare of everything Godric Spetyll and all of humanity had ever feared faced him now.

The shadow before him grew tall, towering and immortal as its puppeteering hand unraveled him string by fleshy string.

Spetyll screamed. His eyes glazed over, refusing to close. Every muscle in his body quaked and quivered like a rat in the snow, his jaw permanently fixed in a dumbfounded state.

In one last moment of conscious mind, he let out a strangled, horrid cry, “BRONDUK! SAVE ME!” he screeched before falling eerily silent.

Lara didn’t let herself exhale until the first bits of drool dropped from his lip. He was a braindead husk. Alive only by the fact that he was breathing. He had no memories, nor the ability to create others. He had no instincts other than the simple one to breathe.

All that was once him, his personality, his mind, his soul, was gone. Godric Spetyll was dead. And the body by which he enacted his evil could never again rise.

“Now, you can’t hurt anyone. Ever.”

Lara collapsed to her knees, out of Megyno reserves and the mental energy to prevent exhaustion from setting in.


	18. Chapter 17: The Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund and Camilla sneak into the Morgaul messenger's hub.

Edmund felt at home among the shadows, unseen and unnoticed. His mind was more at peace when alert, his breath felt cleaner when quieted and his eyes were more comfortable when strained.

He would’ve relished in the feeling, had he not been maneuvering around the outside of a Morgaul fortress.

The Atrellians had just sort of assumed Edmund was invincible once he was declared Champion. Yes, it was less boring than being cooped up in the keep, but he was now expected to attend every strategy meeting and always be on duty.

It was becoming too much. The only people he’d actually talked to in the last week were Elius and Pasco.

“Fancy seeing you here.” The breath of the voice’s source brushed against his ear.

Edmund whirled around, nearly tripping himself. Camilla giggled. He hissed, “How in the Roil did you get there?”

“Practice.” Camilla whispered, “One hunts her own dinner in Irakel. Or at least, they used to. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“That’s because Thorne treats me like a super soldier now. I’m always on duty, always standing by.” Edmund muttered.

“That is the price the strong must pay in this society.” Camilla sighed, “The powerful, intelligent and determined are asked everything of them. Or at least, they are forced to put up a facade of charity. Coddling the weak is bad enough. But pretending to coddle it? Gods and titans.”

“Do you know the message we’re sending to the Karo-Kunnar?”

Camilla nodded, “We’re drawing them to the Cavernous Maw. That’s the rocky area of the desert plain. We can hide our troops there.”

Edmund sighed, “I’m going to be among them, aren’t I?”

“It’s likely.” Camilla said, staring out towards the fortress.

Edmund couldn’t help but take a glance at her. He thought she looked far better in her casual clothing than those stuffy academy robes.

“I like your coat.” Edmund muttered.

“This thing?” Camilla chuckled, holding the edge of the white jacket’s high collar, “It’s a man’s suit coat. I just wear it because of the wind here.”

“I like it on you.” Edmund shrugged.

“Hm. Thank you. Unfortunately, I don’t think I can say the same for...that.” Camilla pointed to Edmund’s own attire. It was a bright white set of baggy monk’s clothes with the Eye of Bronduk painted onto the front.

Edmund frowned, “That makes two of us.”

“They make you dress like that?” Camilla snorted while trying to stifle a laugh.

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” Edmund said defensively.

“Oh, if only you had a mirror.” Camilla flicked a tear away from her eyes, shaking her head.

“Whatever.” Edmund muttered, “I think the best way to get in is through the east here. That takes us right to the back of the messengers’ resting area. The message relay is just around the corner. And we don’t have to cross any open space for the most part.”

Camilla frowned, “How do you suppose this building came to be?”

“They probably...built it?” Edmund furrowed his brow.

“Well, yes. But this wall and the building beyond seem far beyond the architectural capabilities of the Morgauls. I mean, they’ve never needed to build permanent residences prior to this war.” Camilla said, “But the craftsmanship is so...neat.”

“Neat or not, we have to scale it.” Edmund said.

“You’re right.” Camilla grimaced.

“You have the letter?” Edmund asked.

Camilla held up a thick reed scroll, nodding.

Edmund leapt across the grass, pressing himself against the limestone wall of the fortress, followed by Camilla who was nearly just as agile.

He launched himself up with a soft blast of air, gripping a space between bricks. He pushed himself up enough to look over the basic battlements. Edmund ducked just as a patrol passed by. They spoke to each other in Morgaul. The language was so guttural that he couldn’t tell anything even from the tone of voice.

Once they passed, Edmund saw no other incoming patrols. He leaned down, offering a hand to Camilla. She took it and Edmund threw her upwards far enough so she could grab onto and get over the battlements. He followed suit and immediately climbed down on the other side with her.

Staying close to the messenger hub building, they reached the corner where a scroll rack was set up, each with messages headed for different destinations.

Edmund drew Shadowbane from its scabbard and held it just around the corner. He saw no guards in the reflection.

“Can you read the labels on the racks from here?” Edmund whispered.

“Well enough.” Camilla said, scanning the reflection across his blade. “Down more.” Edmund complied, aiming the sword to reflect the next row of racks, “One more...there.”

Camilla, with the stunning grace of a cat, stepped from the shadows and into the moonlight, slipping her message into the rack that was supposedly going to the Karo Kunnar.

She slunk back into the darkness with Edmund resheathing his blade.

Edmund jolted as a horn sounded through the night, “Shit!”

“Wait!” Camilla hissed, holding him still, “That wasn’t a war horn. It was an arrival.”

A Morgaul voice called out across the valley, “ _Syagta yev umtsyentei! Yev eimir ayag!_ ”

“ _Eimir ayag_. The War Brothers…” Camilla muttered, “Emreth! It’s a rider from Emreth!”

“Emreth and Morgaul are working together?” Edmund hissed.

“You really didn’t think that after being declared war on by the same empire, the two would ally?” Camilla asked.

“The patrols stopped moving.” Edmund noticed, “We’ve got one right on top of us.”

Indeed, there were two Morgaul archers on the wall above them that looked out over to the fortress gate.

“They’re waiting for the rider to enter the fort.” Camilla said.

Edmund grimaced, his stare focused on the open gate, keeping himself as still as possible.

The rider entered the fort upon a black horse. But not the kind the Morgauls rode. The regular, hair covered variety. The rider dismounted as several Morgauls came out to meet him.

Edmund’s eyes narrowed as the rider lowered his cloak’s hood. He was a tall and pale man, with long black hair and slim, almost serpentine facial features.

Camilla drew in a small gasp right next to him.

“You know him?” Edmund whispered.

Camilla nodded, “He’s m- the King Regent of Emreth.”

Edmund’s eyes widened as he turned to look at her, “We are so fucking dead.”

Edmund’s eyes moved back to the King Regent just as he stopped muttering something to a nearby Morgaul.

That same Morgaul bellowed in his language.

“They know we’re here!” Camilla shouted, yanking Edmund to the side with her as two arrows landed right where he’d been kneeling.

“Shit!” Edmund rolled to his feet, helping Camilla up and using a Lawfler to deflect away the next pair of arrows from the archers atop the wall.

Edmund turned and slashed through an incoming Morgaul warrior, using his corpse as a shield when the inevitable hail of arrows landed.

Camilla swallowed a Godshard and tossed one to Edmund. She grabbed a waterskin off her belt and exposed it, using a Truthfler to obscure their position with a cloud of steam.

“If we scale the wall, they’ll chase on horseback.” Edmund hissed, “What do we do?”

“I’m thinking.” Camilla muttered.

“We don’t have time to think!”

“I’m trying, damnit!”

An arrow whizzed past Edmund, catching his attention for a moment, “Come on!”

“I never claimed to be a gods damned genius! Figure it out for yourself, Roil-head!” Camilla snapped.

Edmund sighed, “Fine. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

Morgaul arrows flew as Edmund leapt from the cloud of steam and assessed his situation. Within seconds, he knew the position of every visible enemy within his field of view. A side effect of having to react to situations quickly.

Using a Lawfler, Edmund propelled himself into one of the Morgaul warriors on the ground, ramming his blade through his gut. He backed off just in time to dodge the swing of a crude battleaxe.

He sliced upwards through the bone shaft of the weapon and slit the throat of its Morgaul wielder.

Edmund glanced to his right. The King Regent was alone, undefended.

What if he-

The King Regent lashed a hand out from his cloak, tossing a handful of seeds at Edmund. At his he furrowed his brow, but that confusion quickly became surprise as the seeds expanded into full length vines constricting his body in seconds.

Edmund let Shadowbane draw on some of his Megyno energy, activating the weapon’s ability. His body turned to mist before reforming outside of the vines’ grasp. As soon as he was free, Edmund took the King Regent and pressed Shadowbane’s blade to his throat.

Suddenly all the arrows stopped flying. The Morgauls froze in place.

“Don’t move a muscle!” Edmund shouted, “How do you think it would look if your ally’s king was murdered in your own fort, huh?”

“They can’t understand a word of what you’re saying, idiot.” The King Regent growled, “ _Mest chyhoida!_ ” As he finished speaking, the King vanished in Edmund’s arms.

Edmund jolted back as the arrows resumed firing. He blasted a few away, giving up on the king and moving for cover in the hub building.

Those who were asleep within it were just now reaching the exit. Edmund cut them down with quick maneuvers, using his blasts of force to propel himself around their startled attacks. He tumbled during the landing as he found cover within the building.

He stood and pressed himself against the wall, under an opening he assumed to be a window.

Shit! He’d left Camilla out there! He needed to-

“I see that panicked look on your face, Isley.” Camilla’s voice said as she appeared from behind him.

“Champions, woman!” Edmund hissed, jolting, “How are you better at sneaking than me?”

Camilla shrugged.

“And how did you get here?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can get us out of here so long as you can keep them outside.” Camilla said, pulling out a small vial of dull purple liquid.

“What’s that?” Edmund asked.

Camilla sighed, “A dangerous weapon.”

Camilla threw her head back, cringing as she gulped down the liquid.

Edmund’s attention turned to the front entrance as a Morgaul slipped through. Edmund disoriented him with a blast of force before slashing his throat.

He slammed the door shut and pressed his weight against it as Camilla drew something from her belt.

She caught his eye with a piercing glare, “Of this, you can tell no one. Am I clear?”

Edmund felt someone slam into the door from the other side, almost throwing him off. He was nearly out of Megyno energy. So, he nodded, “I swear on the Champions.”

Camilla closed her eyes, raising the item above her head. It was an ornate dagger, carved from black obsidian and inlaid with golden filigree. There was a socket on its hilt.

 _No fucking way_. Edmund’s eyes widened.

Edmund recalled there being a dagger among the Champions’ weapons. It was the property of Ekna’s Champion, the Thief.

Camilla spoke a garbled, throatal tongue as she knelt down and stabbed the knife into the corpse of the fallen Morgaul that had gotten inside.

Edmund blinked and he stumbled backwards into the air. He landed on his back in a soft layer of sand.

There was no door. The hub was gone.

Edmund scrambled to his feet. He and Camilla were in the middle of the desert.

“What just happened?” Edmund asked, breathless.

“We’re safe.” Camilla murmured.

“How? How did you do that? What was that knife?”

“That,” Camilla said, standing, “Was the Kynarath. The Dagger belonging to the Thief.”

“Why do you have it?”

“That isn’t any of your business.” Camilla said.

“Don’t tell me,” Edmund furrowed his brow, “You’re the Thief?”

Her look of inexplicable shame was all the confirmation he needed.


	19. Chapter 18: A New Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara is finally free from past. Her only choice now is to look to the future.

Gammond lowered his crossbow as he stepped into Spetyll’s bedroom. Lara was lying on the ground, unconscious while Spetyll was leaning against a wall looking...kind of dead.

He kept his eye on Spetyll as he moved over to Lara.

“Lara.” He hissed, shaking her awake.

Lara groaned, “Hm? Gam?”

“Is Spetyll...dead?”

Lara shook her head, “Technically, no. I used Tialemancy. I destroyed any sense of a mind within him.”

“Huh. That’s...slightly ominous.” Gammond muttered, “We just finished taking Maladeth.”

Lara nodded, trying to stand, but she could barely roll herself over onto her back, “I’m so damned tired.”

“I’ll take you downstairs, then.” Gammond scooped her into his arms, slinging his crossbow on his back.

Lara wrapped her arm around his collar, her head resting against his chest as she closed her eyes.

“Just how much energy did that take?” Gammond asked.

Lara shrugged, “A lot? I feel like what I did to Spetyll is my Tialemantic power at its peak.”

“Are you...alright?”

Lara nodded, “If I weren’t so exhausted, I’d be celebrating.” she smiled, “I feel a thousand pounds lighter.”

“Lara, if I were to tell you something stupid, would you remember?” Gammond asked as he started to descend a flight of stairs.

“Probably not…” Lara yawned.

“Great.” Gammond hesitated, “I know this is very unofficial and abrupt, but...c-could I, um...Could I start courting you? I’ve had a while to think and frankly, I think I’ve had feelings for you for a while. I was just bad at assessing them. Though I didn’t want to ask before Spetyll was out of your life and even then, this is still really-”

“You’re rambling, Gam. You see, if you asked me what color the sky was because you’d thought it was green your whole life, I’d forget. This is not one of those questions.” Lara chuckled, “Though...I don’t think so.”

Gammond’s heart sank, but he refused to show it, “Ah. I see.”

“Courting is too...uptight.” Lara said.

Gammond perked up.

“I mean, I wouldn’t even be able to see you outside of a supervised setting.” she muttered, “Why would I want that? How do the Emryds do it?”

“Oh. Well...we don’t really have a system. We don’t even bother with marriage, actually.” Gammond murmured, “We just...partner up.”

“Then change your question.” Lara said.

“Alright. Would you like to partn-”

“Yes.” Lara smiled.

Gammond chortled, “Good.”

As they descended to the first floor, Gammond called to the scrambling mass of Emryds within the common room.

“Can I get a Preserver?” he asked.

“Gam, I’m fine. I just need sleep.”

“And who do you think is gonna bring you a bed?” Gammond muttered, “Plus, you can never be too safe with the symbol of a political movement.”

“Symbol of a political movement?” Lara asked as Gammond set her down on one of the many bed rolls set out for the injured. A Preserver set to work on checking up on her vitals.

“Yes. We in Imryt are trying to operate the government on a new, more centralized system. Our kingdom has needed some bureaucracy for a long time,” Gammond said, “When things are too direct and localized, they get messy. The people in several provinces agree.”

“So...what exactly are you having me represent?” she chuckled.

“Well, it’s been in development and we still don’t have a final structure outlined, but me and my father have gotten the idea of abolishing the monarchy pretty popular.”

“I thought you wanted more central power.” Lara raised an eyebrow.

“Well, instead of putting most of the power in the hands of territory lords, we plan to let the people elect representative officials who will make decisions on their behalf.” Gammond said, “We plan on implementing this structure in both Imryt and Maladeth as well as the army as quickly as we can.”

“The army thing sounds a little dangerous.” she said.

“Well, no matter who the officials are, they will have to abide by whatever orders Imryt sends.” Gammond shrugged, “The first elections in Imryt should be done by the time we get back to the city.”

“She’s in good condition,” the Preserver said, “Aside from a few scrapes and some bad bruising on her back and knees. She’ll just need to take it easy for a few days.”

Gammond nodded to the Preserver, “Thank you.” The Preserver nodded back and left to tend to those more badly injured.

“What’s after that? Where are we going?” Lara asked.

Gammond pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, “Not quite sure on the order yet. But we’ll make our way through the other seven territories from the south. Hopefully we don’t have to fight with all of the Lords, especially since some of them have very unhappy populations.”

Lara sighed, “Got it.”

“As much as I’d like to stay and chat, I have other duties to attend to.” Gammond smiled apologetically at her, “You get some sleep. We’ll have plenty of time to awkwardly talk out this new...thing that we are.”

“Can’t wait for that.” Lara grinned.

_______________________________________________________

Lara wasn’t too used to being welcomed into a city with screaming and cheering. It was a nice change.

She’d seen processions back in Atrell, but they were never quite as fun. As they entered, Gammond didn’t just humbly and politely wave back to the crowd. He really soaked up all the glory with a self-satisfied grin.

Lara decided to cheer along with them. She had taken a liking to being more boisterous.

As their horses arrived in the courtyard of the royal palace, they were met by many very official looking people, each of whom wore a different colored cape.

Gammond’s father appeared to be chief among them.

“Welcome home, son.” Gammond’s father boomed, coyly smiling at his son, “I take it you observed the many Atrellian tails turned toward you. I hear Maladeth is famous for them nowadays.”

A mild chuckle resonated through the present crowd.

“I did, father. How did the elections go on your end?” Gammond asked.

“Swimmingly. You may address me now as Consul Hross.” his father said.

“What were the results?”

“We now have representatives for Consuls of Foreign Affairs, Industry, Public Health, Education, Amenities, Trade, Customs, Order and Interpretation. As well as a Prime Consul. That would be me.” Consul Hross said, “And not only that, but we are in the midst of our new Consul Elect of War!” The Consul gestured to his son.

The crowd began to clap and cheer.

Gammond blinked, “Wait...I won?”

“Yes. Many of the people nominated you for your acts of leadership during the siege.” Consul Hross said, “My congratulations. Now, will you accept the position?”

Gammond sighed, “I...I, uhm…”

Lara put a hand on his shoulder, “Go for it, Gam! You earned it.”

Gammond chuckled, “Well, I wouldn’t say that-”

“Stop trying to look humble.” Lara smiled.

Gammond shook his head, grinning, “Alright, alright.”

Gammond dismounted his horse and approached his father.

“I accept the peoples’ nomination for me to become Consul of War.” Gammond announced.

“Then repeat after me.” Consul Hross said, “‘I, Gammond Hross, do hereby accept the will of the people and swear to uphold my office with dignity and pride. As Consul of War, I will direct Emreth’s sword and in taking this power, I also take the responsibility that comes with it. I will not abuse my position, nor will I exploit those under me. I will do only what I truly believe is best for the people of Emreth and what is within the boundaries that have been set for me by my fellow Consuls. I will relinquish my powers if the Emryd people truly believe that is what is best. The people of Emreth can put their faith in me, just as I have put in them. So Tialeis help me, I will take upon me, this burden of Consulship.’”

Gammond repeated the oath to his father. After he did, Consul Hross wrapped a dark red cape around Gammond’s shoulders, matching the other Consuls in design.

“Behold, people of Imryt!” Consul Hross exclaimed, “Our new Consul of War!”

Hross allowed the cheers to go on for a while before turning to Lara.

“And of course, we wouldn’t have this new path if it weren’t for our glorious Warlock.” Hross gestured to her, “Please accept this gift on behalf of the Consulate.”

Lara dismounted and approached the Consuls.

“On behalf of us and the former Hross Industries, now Imryt Weapons Incorporated, we would like to present you this suit of Roilplate armor. All rights for the technology go to our very own Consul of War.” Consul Hross announced.

Several soldiers wheeled out an armor stand that held upon it, a chestplate made of overlapping metal plates along with other smaller pieces of armor and clothing that came together in a far more appropriate garb for a Champion than what she had access to.

It was a little unsettling that the armor looked to have been molded to fit her torso almost exactly, but nice nonetheless.

“Thank you, Consul.” Lara said, “I gratefully accept.”

“Your gracious assistance on the battlefield is all the thanks we need, Ms. Shawe.” Consul Hross nodded, “Care to say something to the public?”

Lara turned to the crowd. She always thought she’d get unnerved speaking to large crowds. It wasn’t really happening, “First of all, I want to thank all of you. Emreth graciously accepted me when I had nowhere else to go and when I was chosen as Warlock, you weren’t angry or upset because I was Atrellian. You were just happy for my potential. And that’s what I love about Emreth so much. You all can recognize the value in accomplishments and potential, rather than how you were born.

“Yes, these are uncertain times, but the Emryd citizen is a strong and willful person. With your support, I know we can unite the territories and put ourselves on the road to a better, more unified, more prosperous Emreth.”

Lara smiled as the crowd cheered and pumped their fists into the air.

“ _Ox i sbah sngas!_ ” The crowd began to chant, “ _Ox i Shawe!_ ”

“Looks like they gave you a nickname.” Gammond whispered.

“What are they saying?” Lara asked.

“‘Glory to the Night Queen. Glory to Shawe’.”

Lara grinned.

“Excuse me,” Consul Hross whispered, “I need to see you and Gammond when we’re done here. We found some things while you were gone.”

_____________________________________________________________

Lara and Gammond met up with his father in one of the rooms in the palace that had been converted into a meeting room after the ceremony concluded.

“What is it, father?” Gammond asked.

Consul Hross sighed, “Since you two have been on the warpath against Atrell, the other Consuls and I had some time to go digging through Caze’s things. He had to leave hastily after stealing the Cruelty Stone from you.” he nodded towards Lara, “So...there’s quite a bit left over.”

Hross stepped over to the large rectangular table in the center of the room, picking up a large envelope and removing its contents.

The Consul set the stack of documents down, “Take a look.”

Lara picked up one of the crinkled pieces of parchment and read the writing.

“This…” she muttered, “This is for someone important. The script….I’d guess an Archcaster or a High Noble. There would’ve been only fifty-three recipients for this letter, excluding the Emperor himself.”

“This shipping report is for...twenty tons of Megyno?” Gammond exclaimed, “Where would the Monarchy get that kind of money? Wait, no...these are exports!”

Consul Hross picked up another letter, “This would be the answer you’re looking for. This letter gives him a clear accompliceship with Cut & Cast.”

“What’s that?” Lara asked.

“A Megyno harvesting company based in one of the Eastern territories.” Gammond muttered, “They might know something about Caze.”

“So this is just one giant pile of leads to Caze’s intentions.” Lara said.

“Seems that way.” Gammond said.

“Caze arrived in Emreth only once the former queen Natassa took power.” said Consul Hross, “He wasn’t a seasoned politician, but he was brought on as the Queen’s personal aid. This explains why.” Hross held up another letter, “This is from the former monarch herself.”

Gammond took it from his father and started to read aloud, “My dearest Caze, I am overjoyed to inform you that it is once again safe for you to return to Emreth. I was crowned just two days ago. Oh, how I-” Gammond cut himself off, “Tialeis, she just gets right into it.”

“What do you mean?” Lara asked.

“Our queen had an affair with Caze.” Gammond’s mouth became a stressed, thin line.

“Oh…” Lara murmured.

“I won’t make you read further, as it is fairly...graphic,” Hross said, “But later on, she also mentions having a child with Caze.”

“The Princess?” Gammond asked.

“No. The Princess is the younger of two children the Queen had. One of the King and one of Caze.” Hross said, “We have no idea who or where this other child is. But that doesn’t matter. You two are officially campaigning through Emreth, right?”

Gammond nodded, “I was going to announce it tomorrow. The leaders we set up in Maladeth should also be sending some troops north.”

“I have several missions for the two of you regarding Caze.” Hross said, “Not only does he have one of our national treasures, but from the way he alludes to certain things...I have no proof, but I feel as though he is putting something together that’s extremely dangerous.”

“Explain.” Gammond frowned.

“He mentions the name Vancen in a few of his personal journals. He seems to have an intense hatred for him. Far more than even I’ve seen. He also mentions something about Eugenicists…” Hross sighed, “It’s probably just all in my head.”

“Eugenicists?” Lara asked, “I’ve heard that phrase somewhere before...the mural of Arge. It depicts a civil war from the Ansami Empire between a group called the Eugenicists and the Empire.”

“Well either way, we need you two to investigate several things for us.” Consul Hross said, “We’ll give you a list before you leave.”

“Anything else?” Gammond asked.

Hross shook his head, “You’re free to go. But do try to visit home occasionally. Your mother worries.”

_________________________________________________________________

Lara glanced up from a book as Gammond entered the palace’s library. Each of the Consuls had moved into the palace, while their families continued to live in their previous homesteads.

“What are you reading?” He asked.

“An utterly boring account of Ansamic history prior to the Titans’ War.” She sighed, “Everything else is just another mythologized version of the war.”

“Trying to figure out something about that mural?”

Lara nodded, “I need the name Vancen or Caze to appear somewhere, but all this author wishes to write about is the military history of the Empire. I’ve skimmed through it three times and I can find nothing on the civil war. Though, it does allude to some important historical events. Not much more than I’m aware of, however.”

“I wish I could help. My only real expertise is machinery.”

“Flerical expertise isn’t that big of a help either.” Lara sighed.

“Actually...Vancen’s a rather big name in medicine, if I’m not mistaken.” Gammond muttered, “Maybe find a book on scientific history in the medical field.”

Lara put her current book aside and ran through a stack of them she had on a table nearby, “What about... _The Speculations of the Ansami, volume 3: Preserving_?”

“Worth a try.” Gammond shrugged.

Lara grabbed the book from her pile. It was one of the thickest and oldest texts among the books. Its leather binding was starting to fray and the pages were yellowed and crusty. She flipped through the table of contents.

“Genetics and the theory of Megysis.” Lara read, “What’s Megysis?”

The theory of Genetics was an obscure one. Only the most educated among any society had heard of it. Lara understood the basics. But she’d never heard of Megysis.

Gammond shrugged.

Lara flipped to the chapter and started reading, skimming the pages until something stuck out.

“Megysis...a plague that went rampant through the population of Ansam near the end of the golden age.” Lara read aloud, “Victims showed signs of genetic deterioration. A cure was created by...Doctor Agamon Vancen!”

“Does the book cite any other works?” Gammond asked.

“Er…” Lara scanned a footnote, “ _The White Death: Ansam’s history of warfare_. Huh. That's what I was reading. Page 307.”

Gammond grabbed the book Lara had previously been reading and flipped to page 307.

“Megyno Crystals, despite a long history of usage by the Ansami as a domestic power source, was found to cause violent disease in those exposed to too much of it,” Gammond said, “The incredible effects were utilized by the Ansami Council under Councilman Kyman when the Dying Star was created. The ten God Stones were first made to act as a conduit for this weapon.”

“What’s a Dying Star?” Lara asked.

“A Dying Star was an explosive device set to be launched from airship rail guns. Upon impact, the ensuing destruction has been described in multiple, conflicting ways. However, most scholars agree that the effect was widespread and apocalyptic in scale.” Gammond read, “It doesn’t say anything about Megysis, though.”

“What about Vancen?” Lara asked.

“Redirects us to _The Theory of Humanoid Genetics, Refurbished and Recovered_.” Gammond sighed, “It just mentions that he was a leader in solving the Megysis pandemic and had a hand in weaponizing the Dying Stars.”

“I don’t have that book…” Lara muttered.

“We’ll check out some merchants as we campaign.” Gammond said, setting the book down. He took a seat on one of the many armchairs within the library.

Lara sighed, “Gammond, do you feel...a little overwhelmed by your position?”

Gammond shrugged, “I’ve been working with the military for a long time. Commanding a battlefield comes almost naturally to me.”

Lara scoffed, “I envy you. I just got rid of the biggest ailment in my life and suddenly, here’s a hundred more flying at me. Now Caze is some kind of villain associated with ancient history, I have to be the face of what is more or less a revolution and we still have to actually fight a war. Just to name a few. We said we were going to start being...involved. And we haven’t done anything except march and accept awards.”

“Well…” Gammond pursed his lips, “We have time now.”

“I should be sleeping, Gam.” Lara groaned.

“Forget sleep. I’m the one making the announcement tomorrow. I’ve molded my sleep cycle to only remain asleep for six hours maximum.” Gammond said.

“That can’t be healthy.” Lara chuckled.

“I just got a new laboratory for research and development.” Gammond shrugged, “Do you, perhaps, want to play around with it?”

Lara rolled her eyes, but cracked into a half-smile, “Do you have flerical equipment?”

“I can make some.” Gammond shrugged.

Lara put her book down and stood, “Let’s go.”

Gammond led her through the palace’s winding hallways, towards the lower floors. He unlocked a wooden door and swung it open, revealing a huge empty space full of scrap metal and junk from machinery. The walls were lined with stone-top counters while a pit for a large furnace or cauldron sat in the center.

“It’s beautiful…” Lara gasped, “This is all yours?”

“Yup.” Gammond grinned proudly.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“Well,” Gammond poured a box of metal onto a portion of the counter, “I’ve been working on a little thing with black powder.”

Gammond grabbed a small glass vial of the substance and a metal spike.

“Normally, we rely on Nihilflers to ignite it. But I thought there might be a way to set it off without flers.” Gammond said, pouring some of the powder onto the table. He stabbed it with the metal spike, creating a spark and a loud pop as the miniscule amount of blackpowder combusted, “Turns out we can.”

Gammond excitedly grabbed a contraption out of another box. It was a horrid amalgamation made of wood segmented into a handle and an unwieldy contraption grafted atop it.

“And that is?” Lara asked.

“This is an old, old project. I tried to make a repeating crossbow that was spring loaded. Though, the magazine is far too big to allow the resetting of the device.” Gammond said, “So, I thought to make a spring loaded weapon out of blackpowder similar to a thunder lance.”

Gammond drew out yet another device that was as long as a thunder lance, but had a handle with a crossbow trigger placed on it. The Ophiomancer took the device and aimed the barrel at a wall across the room. A loud blast nearly deafened Lara as the weapon fired. A single metal pellet chipped the wall.

“Ow…” Lara muttered, covering her ears.

“I probably should’ve warned you about the noise. Are you alright?” Gammond asked.

Lara nodded, “Fine, thanks.”

“Good. But imagine. We could put these into the hands of the common soldier. And suddenly, each man is worth a flerfinger.” Gammond grinned, “The only issue is ammunition. Each pellet has to be crammed down the barrel, so you only get a single shot off every few minutes.”

Lara cupped her chin, “Hm...have you ever heard of Leylining?”

Gammond shook his head.

“Flericists have been experimenting with a different way to use Megyno energy in its raw form.” Lara explained, “How’d you make the Roilplate?”

“I inlaid the armor with copper wire coated in Megyno dust.” Gammond said, “What are you thinking?”

Lara grabbed a small blackboard from Gammond’s box and a piece of chalk. She started to write down a few mathematical equations, “Each Megyno crystal has a field around it until it’s been drained. Sometimes these fields have more content of one well than another. Leylining is the practice of using Well polarizations of those fields to impact the physical world.”

“I don’t follow.” Gammond muttered.

Lara grabbed three Megyno crystals and cast a Stormfler, using the detection ability to see what Wells the crystals held most of. Each crystal had a little bit more alignment to some than others.

“Can you whip up a Siphoner?” Lara asked.

Gammond used his flerish to manipulate several pieces of metal into a Siphoner, a small brace in which to put a Megyno crystal that could direct power from it into other devices.

Lara put one of the crystals in the siphoner and wrapped the output wires around the second.

The crystals started to power each other.

“The crystal in the brace is about to be completely polarized to Impetellas and Sylvanor. The other crystal is about to be polarized to the other three.” Lara explained as the crystal in the brace started to swirl with green and red light while the other had a mix of gold, blue and violet, “There. Now watch this.”

Lara picked up the two crystals and smashed them into each other. Except they didn’t touch. Light flickered a few inches from each crystal in two different fields pressing against one another.

“So the Wells shield against their opposites.” Gammond mused, “Kogniirok repels both Impetellas and Sylvanor.”

“Precisely.” Lara said, “But if you take a completely neutral object like, say, a piece of metal and subject it to these forces, something bigger happens.”

Lara set the crystals down just far enough so they wouldn’t force away from each other, but still upkeep the two fields clashing with each other. She grabbed a metal rod and aimed it at the point where the two fields met. She pushed the rod forwards. As it passed through, the metal deformed and warped into an incredibly thin, flattened state.

“Incredible.” Gammond gasped.

Lara withdrew the rod, half of it now flat, “Razor sharp, too. If you arrange the right shape and polarities of crystals, you can get them to shape essentially whatever you want.”

“That’s great, but how does that help with my problem?” Gammond asked.

“Say you put together a miniscule version of your projectile. Say...steel for the pellet, some blackpowder and...perhaps something to case it together. Like brass.” Lara said, “Take a chunk of those materials and feed them into an intricate Leyline and suddenly you have ten or twenty projectiles in a chunk.”

“It’d have to be incredibly small.” Gammond said.

“No matter how small the field is, it’ll have the same effect on neutral material, since it’s not technically the force of the field that’s warping it.” Lara said.

“I’ll have to try this.” Gammond muttered, “I think this is the first time I’ve truly seen your expertise in full effect.”

“Well if I went around showing my brilliance off everywhere, it wouldn’t exactly be brilliance, would it?” Lara grinned.

“I suppose it wouldn’t. But you know, I kind of have a thing for brilliance.” Gammond smiled back.

“Oh? What kind of thing?” Lara asked with mock obliviousness, “I certainly hope you’re not just interested in me for my mind.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Gammond asked, seriously.

“There’s a pretty face attached to this brain, Gam. I wouldn’t want you to waste it.” Lara chuckled.

Gammond smirked and sighed as he caught on. He’d have to work on that.

“Trust me, Lara, I have every intention of making the most of it.” Gammond walked towards her and placed his hands on her arms. She jumped as he did, causing Gammond to tear his hands away, “Titans. I’m sor-”

“You’re fine. It’s not your fault. My body just has to unlearn some things. Lara drew in an exasperated breath. _Why do I still jump? It’s Gammond!_

“Still, it should’ve crossed my mind…” Gammond muttered, “Are you-mm!”

Lara pressed her lips to Gammond’s until the shocked man fell into it. She drew away for a second, “If this moment gets ruined, I refuse to let it be because of me.”

“I’ll take that as an invitation, then.” Gammond said, returning the favor with a second kiss.


	20. Chapter 19: All's Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund meets the Marksman.

Edmund hadn’t spoken to Camilla since the night of the infiltration. But in the three days past, he often thought of her. How could she be the Thief?

The whole continent would know if the Thief had been found, wouldn’t they?

Edmund leaned against the rail of his chariot, sighing.

The Atrellian cavalry had been hidden among the canyons and rock formations in the Morgaul desert. Every chariot they had was brought out to the battle. Each chariot held one warrior, one archer and one driver.

Neither of Edmund’s teammates had arrived yet.

 _Why would she keep that from me? I mean, the Empire, sure. But aren’t I trustworthy enough?_ Edmund thought. He immediately felt guilty. _I shouldn’t be agonizing over what she thinks of me. I just need to know she’s still alright._

Edmund turned as a pair of footsteps approached the chariot.

A tall, bulky man with ash-white skin, solid black orbs for eyes and light blue markings all over his exposed arms stood near the chariot. The man was a flamewright, from the volcanic islands and archipelagos south of Atrell.

“Greetings, sir Knight. It’s an honor to meet you.” the flamewight bowed, “My name is Taue. I have been assigned as your archer.”

Edmund nodded, allowing the flamewright to board the chariot with him. It was odd to have to tell people if it was alright to approach him.

“What’s that on your bow?” Edmund asked. The flamewright’s bow had an odd wooden attachment to the middle with a handle on the end.

“Ah. A new model the Empire is trying. It’s a stock of six arrows that I can fire without reloading. According to my higher ups.” Taue said, “I prefer using a normal bow or a crossbow, but my captain insisted that this would be better against the Morgauls.”

Edmund nodded, “Impressive.”

“If the Morgauls come and we’re without a driver, I feel no envy for the man who was supposed to take up our reins.” Taue chuckled.

“Hey, friend. You just got here.” Edmund smirked.

“Ah, but just because you chose not to complain doesn’t mean I cannot.” Taue said.

“There we are.” A nasally, quick voice said as a tall, skinny man hopped onto the chariot. He bore the tan skin of an Atrellian native. The man took the reins of the chariot, “Sir Knight.” the man nodded, “A _Derta_. Alright.” he said to Taue. The flamewright grew physically uncomfortable at the word, “Name’s Herve. Sorry about my tardiness. Had to catch a few more minutes of sleep to outmaneuver the Morgauls.”

The aura of undeserved confidence Herve emmanated made Edmund want to kill him then kill himself. Overconfidence in any capacity was a bad thing on the battlefield.

Edmund drew a spear from a collection of them strapped to the inside of the chariot. He liked using spears a lot more than swords. Even after having been put through training, the spear still felt more natural.

Luckily in a battle of this kind, swords wouldn’t reach far enough from the chariot.

“They didn’t give us any shields, did they?” Edmund asked.

“No need.” Herve said, smiling, “We’ve got this bad boy right here.”

The man slapped a metallic handle coming from the inside of the chariot.

“I’m a Sparker. As long as I just send a bunch of energy into this thing, the metal panel on the outside will take most of the arrows for us.” he explained.

“The whole reason the last battle went so poorly was because the Karo-Kunnar were using arrows that were not attracted by Stormflers” Taue said.

“Well then our Knight here can just blast them away, can’t you?” said Herve.

Edmund sighed, “I mean, yeah. I suppose.”

“I reckon it won’t be much longer, eh?” The driver seemed almost...excited. Who would be excited about the prospect of going to war? Or rather, who would still be excited. Many of the Atrellian soldiers started becoming demoralized a week after they came. Most just fought to survive.

“Incoming from the West!” A voice echoed through the canyon.

“There it is.” Herve grinned, snapping the reins of their horse.

Edmund stumbled, nearly falling as the chariot burst into motion. Hundreds of other chariots followed behind them.

The ride was unexpectedly smooth through the canyon path, the chariot’s axel seeming to bend over the stones and pebbles that would’ve obstructed it.

The chariot shot from the canyon, onto a field that was more sand than rock. The Karo-Kunnar on their demonic horses were riding perpendicular to their trajectory. At this rate, the Atrellian force would collide with them.

Taue readied his bow and the wooden stock grafted onto it.

As arrows from the further back chariots started to fly, the flamewright aimed his bow up and pulled on the contraption, the bow automatically releasing its string and firing an arrow. He fired slower than he could have, but considering the amount of arrows already flying, it would’ve been a waste.

The Morgaul riders noticed the encroaching force before any of the arrows landed. One extremely loud Morgaul bellowed an unearthly noise that seemed to come from the canyon behind them as well as in front of them.

Upon hearing the noise, the riders spread out amongst themselves, making it harder to hit them with arrows.

A female voice bellowed another command, which caused them to form an inverted V that mimicked the Atrellian force’s own formation.

“Impressive.” Taue murmured, “The arrows will land similar to how we were ordered.”

Most of the Atrellian volley ended up bouncing off the sand or just grazing a few riders.

Had they predicted that?

Taue fired two more arrows as the Atrellians got close enough to be the target of a Morgaul volley. However the Atrellians had placed Enforcers as warriors for many of the frontal chariots. Edmund, along with them, fired blasts of force into the sky, dispersing the horde’s attack.

Edmund saw another line of blackness fly through the air at an odd angle.

“They’re targeting the center!” Taue shouted, Firing three more arrows before casting the wooden contraption aside and drawing a second stock just like it from his hip. One of his shots actually managed to down one of the riders.

Horses, drivers and occupants of the middle chariots floundered and fell from their vehicles.

“Doesn’t matter.” Edmund said, “We’re still gonna be the first ones they fight.”

The chariots were closing on the riders now. There was no more than thirty seconds before a collision.

Edmund readied his spear, aiming it for the head of the pack. But the moment he could make out the first Morgaul’s tusks, the bellower roared.

The Morgauls wrenched their horses into almost a turn, aiming their charge more inwards towards the Atrellians, right to the softened flank.

They’d completely evaded the Enforcer vanguard and bellowed their warcries as they smashed into the Atrellian ranks.

Edmund whirled around, unable to do anything but watch as half the Morgauls tore through the chariots and the other half harassed the flank from the outside. Those who broke through, matched their comrades in shaving off the sides of the formation.

“I’m turning us around.” Herve said, yanking their horse around. They were followed by the other Enforcers who were cut off with them.

An Atrellian horn sounded from the distance.

“They’re splitting ranks.” Taue said.

As the surviving bulk of the Atrellians left the confinement of the Morgauls, they circled around in a wider arc, splitting into two groups that now chased the Morgauls down.

The chariots of Enforcers formed a wedge behind Edmund’s chariot as they charged through the gap left by the Atrellians, spearheading a regrouping Morgaul force.

The Karo-Kunnar’s more heavily armored units charged in response, meeting the Atrellians head on. The Karo-Kunnar were massively outnumbered by the Atrellians, but were more mobile on their horses and able to harass the Atrellians with their lighter cavalry and archers. Suscepting themselves to another Atrellian volley would be at the bottom of their list of things to do.

Edmund shoved his spear into a Morgaul rider, lifting the heavy creature off his horse. The force was so great that the spear shaft actually snapped once there was nothing to support the warrior’s weight.

Edmund tossed the damaged shaft away and drew another spear, slashing at the calves of another rider.

The problem with being the head of a wedge formation was that three sides of you were open to attack. As the battlefield grew more muddled, Herve tried his best to maneuver the chariot through the rushing horde of Morgauls as Edmund had resorted to knocking the riders over with blunt force to avoid breaking another spear.

Taue fired conservatively, only loosing an arrow whenever it was a guaranteed hit on a rider or his horse.

But Morgauls soon figured out what they needed to do. A large crack sounded from the chariot as a Morgaul passed them. Edmund looked over the edge just as their left wheel snapped off and the chariot collapsed.

Edmund unleashed a stream of force as they slid on the sand, smashing the chariot into several unwary Morgauls, sending them flying off their horses with splinters of wood.

But they weren’t an exception. The Morgauls had drawn their blades and spears, wedging them into the wheels of the oncoming chariots. Some even managed to topple them with arrows.

Edmund staggered to his feet, pulling both Taue and a disoriented Herve up from the ground, using a Lawfler to push a charging attacker over, crushing him under his horse.

It wasn’t long before the last of the Karo-Kunnar slipped between the larger and slower Atrellian ranks.

They’d lost them.

But the mass of riders didn’t continue retreating. With a significant portion of their enemies on foot, the odds were skewed very differently now.

The Karo-Kunnar turned their force about, but came to a stop upon the command of their bellowers.

“Regroup!” an Atrellian commander shouted, “Chariots in front, spears in the middle, archers in back! Flerfingers line the flanks! Enforcers, gather stone shots!”

Edmund split from his chariot team as he joined the Enforcers on the left flank, gathering handfuls of small pebbles, stones and rocks. He set them down in a stack that the other flerfingers on his side had gathered.

He drew a God Shard and chewed on it to replenish his power.

Though, Edmund barely got into position before one of the Morgauls launched a small object into the air with a sling. An archer fired an arrow at the object, the missile shattering whatever was thrown.

A shockwave radiated out from the object in the sky, dissipating into nothing.

“What in the Abyss?” one of the Enforcers muttered.

A few of the men started to groan, clutching their stomachs, some even collapsing to their knees. Edmund felt it too. A pounding in his head and a writhing sensation his gut sent him to the ground. The content of his flerical power was extremely high. Somehow, the Morgauls managed to make a bomb out of Megyno Crystals.

Edmund retched and coughed, hacking blood onto the sand.

Several more bombs were thrown, all shattered by arrows. But this second round blanketed the air in a thick white cloud of dust.

Edmund could hear as the Morgauls ordered an attack on the nonflerical soldiers.

The overwhelming amounts of Megyno energy in his body was killing him from the inside. He needed to expend it. Quickly.

Edmund grabbed onto the hilt of Shadowbane, drawing the sword and feeding as much power as he could into it. Luckily, the seemingly endless appetite for energy his sword had saved him before he was incapacitated.

Edmund looked to the coughing flerfingers near him. Even if he used a Faithfler to heal them, the energy wouldn’t leave their bodies.

Besides, it was the poor sods down below with no line of sight to the enemy Edmund cared to help.

Edmund understood why they unleashed such a powerful weapon. The dust that plagued the area would have easily been blown away with a Lawfler.

But now there was a man still fighting who could do just that.

Edmund channeled as much energy as he could from his fingertips without hurting himself in a massive torrent of wind. The obscuring dust was cut through by his fler, revealing the Morgaul horde’s position.

He was about to join the battle before an arrow sliced his cheek as it passed by him.

The culprit was a smaller Morgaul, heavily armored and leaner than most.

“Isley-karo.” The morgaul grinned, “You’ve become more skilled since we last met.”

Edmund’s breath stopped in his lungs.

“Dregu.” Edmund gritted his teeth, “Were you the one who killed Kaitlyn Isley?”

Dregu shrugged, “I can’t recall. Have you ever counted the number of meals you’ve had? Damn near impossible.”

“There’s an Ansami ruin near here. Where you stored Shadowbane. A girl came looking for it so you stabbed her.”

Dregu glanced off in thought, “Oh, yes. That was a while ago. Was she important to you?”

Edmund only glared at him.

“Good.” The Morgaul smiled.

“Die!” Edmund roared.

“It seems you’ve given me liberty to use my own greatest weapon considering you’ve taken Shadowbane.” Dregu flashed a tusk-filled grin, knocking another arrow in his bow.

He fired the arrow, but as it hurtled towards Edmund, the wooden shaft and metal point became enveloped in red energy. Electricity. Lightning!

Edmund ducked out of the way as thunder cracked in the air and rocks went flying from the point of impact against a boulder.

“How are you able to cast flers?” Edmund asked, bewildered.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dregu flashed a gemstone securely placed in his bow, “You’ve met your match, Knight.”

Edmund resumed a stance, “You’re the Marksman.”

“Idros has found it fit to bestow the Lygaroz onto its rightful owners.” Dregu said, “And now you Atrellian dogs will experience the true power of our people.”

Edmund flinched as Dregu slammed his palm on the Doom Stone, the Marksman’s respective power source. Crimson light enveloped the battlefield as Dregu’s roars carried through the desert.

When the light faded, the Morgaul was covered in stone-like carapace plates, much like Morgaul horses.

Dregu rushed forward with incredible speed. Edmund could barely register the movement before the Marksman smashed into him.

His breath was forced from his lungs as he was thrown across the sand. When he landed, he struggled to get another breath in.

Edmund staggered to his feet, casting a Truthfler. The fler could barely keep up predicting his movements. He only had a split second to move, but it was enough to evade the Morgaul’s next attack.

Dregu fired three arrows at once at Edmund, each morphing into a bolt of lightning. Edmund left the range by way of a very strong Lawfler blast.

He couldn’t continue to defend like this. At this rate, he’d be dead in minutes.

Edmund went on the attack with his flers. Whatever the origin of his speed was, Dregu’s power could be cracked.

Dregu went to rush in at Edmund again, but stumbled mid-charge, his speed fading and giving Edmund the opportunity to swing with Shadowbane. The blade slashed up the Morgaul’s unarmored face, spilling crimson onto the sand.

Dregu scampered backwards, roaring in pain before glowering at Edmund with rage.

Edmund didn’t hesitate to go on the attack, assaulting Dregu with a barrage of sword swings. Where the marksman was armored, Edmund’s blade sparked, clanging off the carapace while his vulnerable parts were vigilantly defended by Dregu using his bow almost like a quarterstaff.

Dregu shoved him back with an elbow to the gut before firing two arrows at Edmund. The whizzed by, but carried a large, unnatural wind in its wake. Large enough to pick Edmund up and launch him backwards.

Edmund landed safely only thanks to controlled use of his Lawflers.

Edmund ran at Dregu, using much of the energy in his blade to make himself incorporeal as the Morgaul fired arrow after arrow at him. He made himself solid again as he slammed his shoulder into Dregu, slamming him into a rock formation behind him.

Dregu grabbed onto Edmund, unstunned. He tried to turn to mist again with his blade, but found himself unable to, no matter how much he called to his sword. Dregu slammed Edmund into the ground, sending sharp spikes of pain all down his spine.

Edmund lost his breath a second time, blood splattering from his mouth.

Dregu dropped Edmund, whose body was starting to lose feeling. As he tried to stand, Dregu swung his foot into Edmund’s gut.

The Knight dropped to the ground. Vertigo swam across his vision as Dregu kicked him again.

“I was expecting more from you, Isley.” Dregu growled, “This? This is pathetic.”

Edmund, with a hell of a lot of effort, clambered to his feet. He had to lean against his sword. He was pretty sure he had several broken bones.

“Sit down, Knight. Accept your fate like the rest of your wretched kind.” Dregu spat, “How do you expect to face me without your stone?”

Edmund took two deep breaths, “The people...fuck.” His lungs wanted to stab him for speaking, “The people you Morgauls hate...are not my ‘wretched kind’. My kind are the ones who die for those you hate. My kind are the ones your people slaughter, when you should be killing those who invaded your homeland. I just...I need to help them.”

“It doesn’t matter what caste you are, Isley.” Dregu growled, “You’re Atrellian all the same. And so you are not welcome in Morgaul. But I understand how you feel. What I’m doing right now is protecting my people from you.”

Edmund made a stupid decision and tried to attack Dregu. The Morgaul caught his half-conscious swing before sending a blow to his face. Edmund hit the ground, his blade clattering out of his hands.

“The Atrellians waited so long for a Knight.” Dregu chided, “And this is what they get? I almost feel sorry for them.”

Edmund laid there, listening to them. While the Pious and Snakes were once again slaughtered by the Morgauls, all he could do was sit here in pain. Is this the fate Bronduk had in store for him? To be a bystander to death and war?

“Too bad, Isley. Looks like Atrell is going to have to wait another hundred years for a better Champion.” Dregu said, setting Edmund up on a rock formation, “At least hold your weapon while you die.”

The Morgaul placed the fallen Shadowbane into Edmund’s hands. They could barely hold onto the saber.

Honestly, he was surprised this hadn’t come sooner. Getting involved with gods, kings and wars was too high profile for his type. He had it-

“EDMUND!”

Edmund cracked his eyes open just the slightest bit. Elius stood far away, in his flapping azure robes. A hallucination?

Elius tossed something in the air before putting a huge blast of wind behind it. The moment he did, he collapsed. This wasn’t a hallucination. Or else he wouldn’t be affected by the Megyno bomb.

The item soared through the air, glinting in the sun. Gold, blue and green. It was a crystal.

The crystal was drawn towards him. Specifically, his hand. With incredible speed, the Clarion stone closed the distance between them and secured itself in Shadowbane’s hilt.

After that, white light consumed the battlefield.

_____________________________________________

Edmund felt different.

Aside from the new spring of energy and the brilliantly pure white feathered wings that now extended from his back and held him in the sky.

He felt different in his mind and his soul. He was...calm? Not quite. But there was definitely something soothing him. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t excited. He wasn’t even surprised. Well, not as much as he should’ve been.

The beat of his wings in the air matched his heartbeat. It was a simple, almost mind numbing cadence.

Everyone below had ceased fighting, pausing to look up at him as he looked down on Dregu.

That man had disrupted the peace. And for the death of his sister, he had to pay, along with the rest of the Karo-Kunnar. He would-

_NO! That’s not me! I have to protect the soldiers. They’re alive and here. After that, Dregu’s my next target._

Edmund swooped down to the main scene of the battle, summoning thousands of serpentine bindings of blue light that sprouted from the ground and restrained the Morgauls and their mounts. He soared into the air, swinging around towards Dregu as the Morgaul fired three lightning arrows.

 _Let them come._ A soothing female voice said in his mind.

Edmund precisely put his sword between them and his body. The force was absorbed by the weapon and unleashed back towards its sender with a swipe of his blade. A golden wave of energy slammed into Dregu, throwing him against the stone.

Dregu roared, pulling himself to his feet. With his unnatural speed, he fired a barrage of arcane arrows, all of which were deflected by Shadowbane. The speed of Edmund’s mind and body was incredible, but the way he just...knew things. It was a perfect sync of his intuition and intelligence that calculated every move he made.

Edmund raced forward, slamming his knee into Dregu’s gut, sending the Morgaul flying again. He barely managed to stand up only for Edmund to knock him to the ground again with his wing. Edmund pointed his blade at Dregu’s throat.

“Wait!” Dregu shouted, dropping his bow, “Let my men go. Kill me, enslave, whatever. Just let my warriors go.”

Edmund considered. Taking their leader would cut off the head of the snake and get a Champion out of their way. But he couldn’t kill him. It would only cause another Champion to be born.

“Fine. Tell your people.” Edmund said.

Dregu roared at his soldiers in Morgaul. As Edmund cast away their bindings, they fled the scene. The Atrellians started to give chase, but Edmund held them with a single hand.

“Victory is ours!” the Knight shouted.

The Atrellian soldiers cheered, some even breaking down from exhaustion and relief.

“Have someone take this one captive.” Edmund ordered General Thorne as the general and his advisors approached, “We’re done here.”

Edmund sheathed Shadowbane, the Clarion Stone still in it. His wings and the aura of light around him vanished into nothing. The pain from his earlier wounds flooded back into him. The exhaustion returned and the aching once again flooded back into his chest, legs and head.

He would’ve collapsed were it not for Elius, who caught him on the way down.

“That was incredible, my boy!” Elius exclaimed.

Edmund half-heartedly nodded, “I think...I think I’m gonna pass out now.”

__________________________________________________________

Edmund cracked his eyes open to a thankfully dark quarters. He assumed he was back at Fort Killigrew.

The room was lit by nothing save for a bit of moonlight.

Everything hurt. Not mostly everything. Everything everything.

He glanced at his bedside table. A small platter of God Shards had been placed there with a note. He grabbed the platter and the note. Luckily it was written in a class script he could read.

“A gift” it said, signed by Pasco’s name.

Edmund smiled slightly as he ate one of the Godshards. The rejuvenating energy flowed into his body, alleviating a bit of the aching.

On the back of the note said “Oh by the way, I wrote a new song for you. I think you’ll like it. If you do, can you give me the exclusive right to compose ballads about you?”

Edmund scoffed. He didn’t really care about the ballads, but if Pasco wanted to, he’d be welcome.

Suddenly the door to his room cracked open as a female figure stepped inside. The light from the hall glinted off strands of straight blonde hair.

“Camilla?” Edmund asked, squinting.

Camilla’s eyes darted to him, full of alarm, “Oh. You’re awake.”

Without another word, Camilla moved for the exit.

“Wait.” Edmund said, but she didn’t heed his word. When she started to open the door, Edmund dragged himself out of bed and onto the floor, “I said wait, damnit!”

She released the door, “What? And Champions, Edmund. Be careful!”

“You and I still have a lot to discuss.” Edmund said, “I may not be able to stop you right now, but if you leave, I will follow. To hell with my injuries.”

Camilla sighed, “Bronduk’s thumbs. Here.” She helped him up onto his bed again, “What do you want?”

“Answers.” Edmund said.

“Edmund, I’m your friend, aren’t I? I say this as your friend. You don’t want me to answer those questions. Just rest and heal. I’ll be gone by the time you’re back on your feet.” Camilla said.

“Gone?”

“I’m leaving the front, Edmund. Atrell has their Champion. Another one will just get in the way.”

“Where will you go?” he asked.

Camilla shrugged.

“Well, as your friend, Camilla, it’s my responsibility to know about you. And you can’t leave just because you have access to Glorekja.”

“That’s exactly why I have to leave, Edmund. If I’m found out, they’ll execute me or worse.” Camilla hissed.

“Why did you even come here in the first place if it was so dangerous for you?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Yes I would!” Edmund snapped, before reeling back, “Sorry. But I’m not some kid who’s lived on a farm all his life with no strong allegiances. You’re the Thief. I was a thief too. I have no loyalty to them. They aren’t my friends.”

Camilla sighed, distress plastered across her normally collected and cool expression.

“I’m here because I can’t be caught in this place. All this mess started in Irakel.” She said, “I was only eleven when the Kynarath dagger came into my possession. Well, I guess that wouldn’t be the correct use of words.”

“What do you mean?” Edmund asked.

“I stole it.” Camilla said.

“You stole a Champion’s weapon?” Edmund hissed, “How? And at eleven?”

“I was determined to prove myself worthy. In Irakel, you’re left for dead unless a demon deems you worthy of a contract.” Camilla explained, “And for the record, I’m not the Thief. I’m a thief, but not the Champion.”

“But then how did you use the dagger?” Edmund frowned.

“You don’t actually have to be a Champion to use a Champion’s weapon without the stone. You just have to be the right kind of Flerisher and have enough Megyno energy to spare.” Camilla said, “all that chosen one stuff only applies to the God Stones as far as I know.”

Edmund glanced to Shadowbane, leaning against the corner of the room.

“I wasn’t rewarded for my efforts either way. I was chased out of Irakel and left with nowhere to go. So I came to learn about my own powers at the Flerical Academy. I ended up working under Elius.” Camilla shrugged, “But I feel it’s time I move on. I know everything I need to.”

“But where will you go?” Edmund asked.

“I don’t know, Edmund.” Camilla sighed, “Anywhere I won’t be killed for my flers. Emreth maybe.”

Edmund glanced at her, “How long have you planned on leaving?”

“Since you became a Brondumancer.” Camilla said, somewhat uncertain.

“Then why haven’t you left yet?” He cocked his head, starting to dig into her thought process. He felt guilty about it, but...he didn’t know why. He felt it was for the best anyway.

“Why do you want me to stay?” Camilla raised her voice, “Why do you want me to remain in danger?”

Edmund’s breath caught in his throat. Wasn’t he her friend?

 _But she can’t just leave!_ He argued.

Why? Why not?

 _Because I…_ Edmund had no justifications. Save for one. _Because I want her to stay. Because I care about her and it would make me feel uneasy if I couldn’t help her._

Yes, this was about him. He was being selfish. He felt he had become a different person by acting selflessly on the battlefield. He thought that being altruistic made him somehow a better person. But could you consider a man living in misery a good one?

“It’s because I don’t want you to leave me.” Edmund said solemnly.

Camilla recoiled slightly.

“I’m being selfish about it. But I care about you. And I wouldn’t be able to be there for you if you left. Just as you wouldn’t be there for me.” Edmund muttered. He was certain that had ended it. Her mind was made up.

Camilla sighed, walking away from the bed, pacing about the room, chuckling with an empty smile.

“You know? I’ve always admired how strong you were. In the heart. At least you can be honest with yourself.”

“Look, I get that I seem like an ass right now and I feel the same but-“

“It wasn’t bitter, Edmund…” she cut him off softly, “I just...All too often, I am dishonest with myself. Because that’s all I do. I lie and deceive.”

“Well you can tell me the truth.” Edmund offered.

“The reason I hadn’t left...I think about it now and realize that it was the same reason you didn’t want me to leave. I didn’t want to leave you alone to these wolves of aristocracy.” Camilla muttered, “And I kind of got used to having you around. I enjoyed it. Loved it, actually.”

“So we agree?”

Camilla paused, “Do you mind if I’m a bit...overly honest?”

“Be as honest as you want. You’ll see no judgement from me.” Edmund said.

“I...You mean a lot to me. More than anyone has before. I don’t know why. It’s unfamiliar to me and while some may proclaim to be- well, I hesitate to call it love. Though many others might.”

“You...you love me?” Edmund raised an eyebrow. This was not the direction he was expecting to go.

“I told you, that’s not it.” Camilla replied solidly, “But I cannot deny I have more than a passing interest in you. I...do with that what you will.”

Edmund thought back, all the way to the first lesson she’d given him. Did he feel the same?

“I mean...wow.” Edmund released a painful breath, “I...I think you’re great, Camilla. You’re intelligent, strong, beautiful. You’re clearly one of the best thieves to ever live. Why me? I’ve had everything more or less handed to me at this point. That’s not exactly a very charming trait.”

“Handed to you? Edmund, who cares if you were born a Brodnumancer or the Champion. You still had to work for what you have. I trained you, damnit. I watched you struggle to cast Lawflers and Faithflers. I’ve seen the loss you know.” Camilla exclaimed, “I would kill anyone who said you had everything in your life handed to you.”

She...she was right. Nevertheless, Edmund still didn’t think he was worthy of such a high opinion. But it felt good, especially coming from her.

“What I’m saying is...I think I feel the same? Almost? I wouldn’t be opposed to...well forgive me, but I wouldn’t say courting. But something similar.”

Camilla let out a sigh of relief, her expression becoming an odd mixture of her smiling and her will to suppress it.

“You just confessed your feelings and weren’t rejected.” Edmund chuckled, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

“As much as I want to be, I can’t let myself…”

“Why?” Edmund asked.

“Edmund, now I have to leave even more urgently. I love, love what you just said. But I need to protect you. The amount of trouble you could get in for just associating with me if they found me out. I can’t-”

“Damn the risks!” Edmund hissed, “Camilla, please for my sake, just let yourself be happy for a little bit. Every time you start enjoying yourself you leave in fear you’ll enjoy it too much. Everytime we talk, you’re too afraid to grow attached even though you already have. What do you want? Not what you should do. What do you want to do?”

Camilla sighed, sitting on his bed, “Isn’t that obvious? I want to stay here. With you. And maybe try this...half-courting thing.”

“Then let’s do it.” Edmund said, “We’re both excellent thieves. We’ll be careful, just like we always are. But if we don’t take any risks, what’s the point in living?”

Camilla stared at the floor, in deep conflict.

 _Please, Camilla. Pick the right choice._ He tried to mentally will her, making sure he wasn’t accidentally using a Lawfler to dampen her emotions. He wouldn’t go that far.

“Camilla, I-”

He was cut off as she whirled around and pressed her lips to his. Edmund almost pulled away in a start, but caught himself and leaned into the kiss.

Edmund had never actually kissed a girl before, but he’d never tell anyone that. Except maybe her. And he enjoyed it. A lot. A more secure version of the anticipatory knives that stabbed his chest from the inside met him, acting more like a warm glow of light than cold steel.

Camilla pulled away, pink in the face and tucking a golden strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry. That was a bit forward. But you talk too much.”

“I think I like forward.” Edmund grinned.

“That was your first, wasn’t it?” she asked. This time it was Edmund’s turn to flush. Camilla chuckled, “Don’t worry. I don’t blame you. Actually it’s kind of refreshing to find someone clueless about the more...physical pleasures in life.”

Edmund laughed with her, “I guess you’ll be my teacher for more than just flers then, huh.”


	21. Chapter 20: Hubris

Lara woke up to the sound of war horns. It seemed they replaced the birds in the morning nowadays.

“Lady Shawe!” a servant girl burst into her room, “The Kings of Etria and Hadal are laying siege to the city!”

Lara groaned, groggy and disoriented, “The Kings of what?”

“The armies of two Territorylords are on our doorstep!”

Lara’s mind finally became lucid as she sat up, “Where?” she asked.

“They’ve made camp at the North gate, my lady.” the girl said.

Lara got out of bed and hastily pulled on a shirt and trousers.

“Send an attendant for my Roilplate.” Lara said.

“Yes, Madam.” the servant girl bowed before running out of the room.

Lara rushed to the ground floor of the palace. Five men and women were ready with her armor. She allowed them to start strapping it on, each piece making the collective suit heavier.

The plate was rather tight-fitting and wouldn’t fit at all had her body metabolized the same way as most Atrellians. Every part was formed to her exact measurements save the shoulderplates, for flair. Most armor would leave space between the plate and the wearer to assist in deflection, but considering the way this armor worked, there was little need.

She stretched her arms out. It was surprisingly mobile.

Lara wasted no more time and ran off towards the North Gate.

The Consuls were atop the wall, accompanied by an escort force of a thousand men or so. Lara climbed up to join them.

“Fill me in.” She said to Gammond, who was wearing his dark red Consul’s cape.

“Etria and Hadal have formally declared war on us.” Gammond said, “And they brought their armies to help that message sink in. The troops from Maladeth are still a few days away, but I doubt they know that.”

“Have they made any aggressive action?” Lara asked.

Gammond shook his head, “No. The Kings are currently in a meeting with our Consul of Foreign Relations. If anything goes wrong, we’ll need your help.”

“Wait, she’s returned!” one of the Consuls shouted.

The Consul of Foreign Relations, orange cape flapping behind her, was returning on horseback. She’d just broken through the edge of the thick pine forest that bordered the north of the territory.

“Where’s her escort?” Consul Hross asked.

Something whizzed by the Consul and stuck in the bricks of the wall. A crossbow bolt. The first drop of a storm, a volley bolts soon followed it, aimed at the Consul.

“I’d say that counts as aggressive action.” Gammond sighed, “Lara, can you-”

“Already on it.” Lara said, leaping off the edge of the wall. She landed fifty feet below, the fields of energy on her armor softening the blow and causing her to bounce a bit. She landed in a run towards the Consul.

Lara faced the direction in which the bolts were coming from, crossing her arms. Bolts hit the Megyno fields on her armor instead of a Consul’s body part.

She could see the wooden barricades of a war camp just up ahead. Hastily built towers held the crossbowers.

With battlements like those...she could easily knock them over. But could she defeat them all? Roilplate had finite energy, so it was probably best to wait for a siege.

“Damn statists!” the soldiers from the opposing armies shouted as she retreated, “We’ll die before we give in to your regime!”

Did they really think the new Consulate was a regime? Didn’t the people have more freedom in choosing their leader now?

Lara didn’t bother acknowledging them and returned to the city walls. She slipped through the gate and returned to the top of the wall.

“My thanks, Warlock.” The Consul of Foreign Relations bowed her head. She was a middle-aged woman on the cusp of elderly with greying hair and pale skin.

Lara nodded.

“Why did they shoot at you?” Gammond asked, “you’re a diplomat.”

“I presented to them the offer of joining the Consulate and I think that’s what set them off.” She said, “They both wish to remain independent territories.”

“They could’ve asked for such things peacefully.” Gammond sighed.

“Well, they also wish to co occupy Imryt.” The Consul muttered.

“There it is.” Gammond’s lips pressed together tightly, “Do they seem intent on leaving?”

“Leaving?” Lara asked, “Gammond, you’re Consul of War. They shot at one of our highest diplomats. We should attack them.”

“We can’t just attack them, Lara.” Gammond said, “It’s two armies. Both of them are individually larger than the force we have here, thanks to the battle of Maladeth.”

“So what do we do?”

“We wait for them to commit to a siege.” answered Gammond, “I’ve been mass producing that weapon of ours. Until we get those into the hands of our soldiers, we’ll be doomed to fail an offensive.”

“But you have me.” Lara said.

“And you’re our greatest weapon.” Gammond said, “But we can’t rely on just you alone.”

Lara sighed, “Fine.”

The other Consuls had broken off into conversation about their own departmental interactions to prepare for the siege.

“This is the second siege this city’s been under in less than half a year.” Gammond sighed, “Though...I do like the way you look in that armor.”

“Yeah?” Lara chuckled, “I’m kind of worried about whoever formed it to fit so snugly.”

“I’m certain they just looked at a set of clothes you left at the Palace.” Gammond shrugged, “Besides, the seamstresses know the measurements of every person in the building.”

Lara looked out over the wall at the forest where the army camp was.

“I don’t get why this whole thing is happening,” she sighed, “You’d think people would be happier with some stability.”

“All of us were raised on the idea that power corrupts. Emreth has always been averse towards powerful governments. They value their freedom very highly.” Gammond said.

“Well, they need a government to protect their freedoms. Without it, we get stuff like this where warlords just rise up and take power.” Lara huffed.

“If only we could convince them of that…” Gammond sighed, “It’s probably not even the people who chose this. The Territory Lords have just convinced them that we posed a totalitarian threat in order to prop themselves up and justify stroming this city.”

“Well, if that’s the case, we should just head in there and kill those kings.” Lara said.

“It’d certainly be easier. I’d consider it if I could with our current numbers.” Gammond said.

“Well send me. Drop me in by Nightprince and I’ll take them out.” Lara shrugged.

“It’s more complicated than that.” Gammond muttered, “If we just go in and kill the kings, we’ll just contribute to the image of an authoritarian regime they’ve spun up for us.”

“Not if we show them we aren’t after the fact.” Lara argued.

Gammond shrugged, “Best play it safe for now. I don’t wanna ruffle any feathers. My father being a Consul makes the other Consuls automatically suspicious of me.”

“Why would they be suspicious of you? You’re more brilliant than anyone else who could get this job.” Lara said.

“Aw.” Gammond chuckled, “That’s sweet, but no matter how brilliant I may be, there’s still the possibility for corruption in me.”

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Well, we have to.” Gammond said, “Or at least, I have to.”

____________________________________________________________

Lara stepped through the forest on the north edge of Imryt, followed by a small force of four hundred men. It was a new moon that night, making the already dense forest even darker.

“Are you sure this won’t cause waves?” Lucia whispered as she came up beside Lara.

“If it does, I’ll take the blame.” Lara said, “But we have to take that risk. At this rate, the city will be too weak to unite the rest of the peninsula.”

Lucia sighed, “I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

“All you have to do is take the walls.” Lara said, “Let me handle the rest.”

With that, Lara shimmered into nothingness, veiling herself with a Shadowfler. But there would be Sparkers along the wall. The pulse of her Shadowfler would be relatively quiet, but still noticeable. She just had to get their attention.

Lucia’s forces had stopped fairly distant from the camp, since no one else could be around while Lara dismantled their security.

Lara crept from the trees towards the wooden walls. The Sparkers along that segment started to murmur.

Lara then pressed her gauntlets together, the polarized fields clashing with each other and releasing a huge amount of Megyno energy.

The Sparkers jumped or jerked back, their flers overloaded.

Lara tossed her whip up, the dart on the end wrapping around one of the many sharpened logs used to make battlements on the wall. She clambered up as silently as she could manage before taking out the Sparkers with a dagger.

She coiled her whip up and grabbed a coin from a pouch on her belt. She cast a Nihilfler, the metal glowing between her invisible fingers. That would be the signal for Lucia to start silently taking control of the walls.

Lara lowered herself to the ground inside the camp and started to creep towards the center. It was a smart choice to leave most of her Roilplate. She’d taken the gauntlets to overload the Sparkers, but without the cloth wraps under them, they’d be clanking and jingling all over the place.

She walked low to the ground, each footfall landing heel to toe as she made her way to the largest tents.

Lara hid herself behind a tree, since her whip was technically still visible. There were two guards outside each of the tents. And they were close.

Lara took the length of the whip in her free hand and started to spin the weapon. She bent her elbow in, allowing the whip to start wrapping around it before she straightened her arm, using her forearm to propel the dart forward through the throat of the first guard.

She immediately recoiled it as the others first noticed their comrade dying. Lara swung the whip under her leg and shot it out with her foot, stabbing another in the stomach. She retracted the whip and came out from behind the tree, slamming the heavy dart down on the third’s head, cracking his skull.

The fourth started to run and cry for help, but before he could get the first words out of his mouth, Lara wrapped the chain links around his throat and dragged him towards her. She stepped past him and yanked upwards, snapping his neck.

Lara sighed with satisfaction, coiling the whip on her belt once again.

Actually understanding how to use the weapon was far more effective than waving it around everywhere.

Lara stepped into the first of the big tents. A crown laid on the table next to the man sleeping in it.

Lara took her knife and pressed it into the throat of the king. Killing came so easy now. Or at least, when it came to killing people in her way.

She left the tent and stepped into the next. An old woman lay in the tent’s bed this time. Lara walked up to her and stabbed at her.

Except the woman caught her arm. The woman’s wrinkles and grey hair vanished to reveal a young woman with blonde hair. A Shadowfler.

The woman twisted Lara’s hand, wrenching the knife from her hands and smashed her elbow into Lara’s head.

Lara stumbled back, clutching her temple as the woman flipped out of her bed, clad in black with a golden pin on her shirt. She was a military Tialemancer.

“You’re not very bright for an assassin.” the woman muttered before launching a rope dart at Lara, “Did you really think we’d let our king be subject to an assassination with only two guards to stop her?”

Lara deflected the blade with her Roilplate gauntlet, sending it rocketing through the tent’s fabric.

Did all Tialemancers use flexible weapons?

The Tialemancer rushed forward, dragging her rope with her as she leapt into the air, slamming both her knees into Lara’s chest.

Lara staggered out of the tent, landing hard in the dirt. She rolled over just in time to dodge the Tialemancer’s dart as it came crashing down onto her. Lara sprung to her feet and canceled her Shadowfler. If her opponent could also cast them, it would be pointless to be invisible.

She uncoiled the Demonspine whip and began to spin it around, forming a radius of deterrence to her opponent.

But then again, another rope dart bearer wouldn’t have to get close.

The Tialemancer shot her dart at Lara as she remembered that fact and blocked the weapon with her gauntlet. As the dart retreated, the field around her arm started to flicker. Lara checked on the crystal in her gauntlet. It was cracked. She used this stone one too many times.

She should’ve switched to a new crystal. But she might as well shatter it. Though, it would be weaker now.

Lara and the Tialemancer took turns launching their rope darts at each other. Lara’s coursing with electricity and the Tialemancer’s glowing red hot at the tip.

Lara cast out her dart, certain she’d hit the torso, but the Tialemancer wrapped her own dart around the Demonspine Whip.

The Tialemancer tugged, but Lara reinforced her grip by wrapping her whip around her arms. Lara tugged back, dragging the Tialemancer in. Instead of allowing herself to be dragged, the Tialemancer closed the distance, jumping into a spinning kick that slammed into Lara’s gauntlet field. The crystal in her gauntlet shattered as the Tialemancer landed, wincing as she put weight on the foot that had kicked the energy field.

The Tialemancer lifted her foot, indicating that it hurt to even put a little weight on. It could be broken.

Lara took advantage of the situation and tugged, pulling the Tialemancer to the ground. The Tialemancer pulled back, sliding across the dirt and shoving her good foot into Lara’s ankle. Lara collapsed to the ground, allowing the Tialemancer to suddenly and expertly weave the connected ropes around Lara’s throat.

Lara choked as the air flow was cut off from her lungs.

“The Demonspine whip, eh? So you’re the famous Warlock.” the Tialemancer growled, “You’re nothing but an amateur with power.”

Lara tried to reach behind her, but her hands were distanced by rope and her foot was planted in a spot on her back Lara couldn’t reach.

So Lara channeled her Nihilfler and burned through the rope of the Tialemancer’s weapon before staggering to her feet.

“Attention, soldiers of Etria and Hadal!” Lucia’s voice rang out. She glanced down at Lara, before glancing up again, “One of your monarchs is dead! And your walls have been taken! If you don’t wish to die, please send a delegate to Imryt before noon tomorrow to sue for peace!”

Soldiers and officers were shambling out of their tents to see what was going on. Imryt forces had lined the walls, crossbows pointed down at the enemy soldiers.

Murmurs started to spread like plague amongst them.

“We understand!” a man shouted back, “Most of us don’t want to fight! We will petition for a peace deal tomorrow. If you would please withdraw your troops, we will provide you safe passage out. I swear to remain true to my word as a general.”

Lucia nodded, “Soldiers, withdraw!”

Lara clasped her whip to her hip again before following the soldiers out of the camp, leaving the Tialemancer on the ground.

____________________________________________________________________

“Come on.” Lara hurried up the stairs of the northern wall, Gammond trailing behind her.

She pushed past the increased guard atop the wall, looking over the battlements.

“What could possibly be here that’s so special?” Gammond asked as he joined her.

“So, yesterday, you said that if you could, you’d just walk into the camp and take out the kings. Of course, I would never ask you to compromise your position.” Lara explained, “So last night, I got the entire camp to surrender.”

Gammond blinked, “You what?”

“Isn’t it great?” she asked.

“I...I don’t know what to say.”

“Well you can start with a thank you.” she grinned.

“Because while what you’ve done is simply astonishing and amazing, do you have any idea how bad this is gonna look for us?”

“Don’t worry about what everyone thinks of you. Point is, this city is no longer under siege.” Lara said.

“No, Lara, this could discredit everything the Consulate has been trying to sell itself to the other provinces as. Now I don’t know everything, but if what you did was even slightly out of line, that could unite every other province against us.” Gammond said, “Which would be ironic, considering unity is what we want. Except we also wanna live.”

“I don’t get what the problem is. In one foul swoop, I solved all our immediate problems.” Lara said.

“One foul swoop that could spawn a million more problems What was the swoop?” Gammond asked.

“All I did was-”

Lara caught something in her peripheral. She glanced to her left and tackled Gammond to the ground as a hail of crossbow bolts rained down on the northern wall.

Soldiers shouted at each other, panicked and frantic.

“What in the Abyss?” Lara exclaimed as the two of them stood, “They said they’d surrender!”

“Gods and Titans.” Gammond snapped, “First flerical battalion, retaliate! Send scouts for the other Consuls and General Lucia! Move!”

Sparkers grabbed hold of brand new metal rigs mounted on the wall’s towers, using two electric polarities to launch a black steel ball that exploded into thousands of pellets as it landed. Ignitors fired thunder lances as a massive force of two armies charged at the wall under cover of crossbow fire and thunder lances.

Furthermore, the defenders had their aim obscured as a hundred Ignitors spewed out clouds of smoke to cover their advance.

Giant metal hooks from siege engines swung up and latched onto the battlements of the wall. Each had a group of fifty men that tugged on the hooks until the walls crumbled, allowing ladders to be placed.

Soldiers rushed up the ladders, brandishing spears, swords and poleaxes.

Lara coiled her whip and lashed it out from her elbow, stabbing the first soldier to approach her in the head. She dragged his body off the ladder before pushing it over with the help of several other Imryti soldiers.

But enemy soldiers still managed to ascend the wall.

Lara ensured that none got near the gatehouse to open the massive wooden doors as the portcullis was lowered down.

But simply lashing out the spike at the end of her weapon wasn’t fast enough to stop the encroaching forces. So she hung up her whip and grabbed a sword and round shield from a fallen soldier. The blade still felt more right in her hands than the whip.

If only she had her Roilplate.

Lara joined a line of soldiers defending the gatehouse, hacking into a man who tried to bash her skull in with a poleaxe.

She crashed through the line and shoved another ladder off the wall with four people climbing it. From atop the wall, she could see a huddled group of men with their shields overhead running towards the wall.

Lara turned to one of the tower-mounted magnetic cannons, “Oi! Your next shot goes there!”

The operators swiveled the cannon around and launched the metal projectile within, demolishing the formation. But a scrawny woman broke from the ruins of it, carrying a large barrel.

Blackpowder.

Lara couldn’t react fast enough. Though the woman was stuck full of crossbow bolts, she managed to ignite the barrel.

The wall shook as fire erupted from the base of it. Parts of the wall crumbled into the smoke left behind, leaving a gaping hole in their defense.

Soldiers shouted with panic as they coagulated around the hole, assaulting the small channel with crossbow bolts and metal pellets as the enemy started to flow in. Imryt forces did everything they could from scattering black powder from Thunderlances to dumping boiling water onto the troops.

But that left the rest of the wall undefended. Ladder rushers ran for the wall as falconhead hooks tore down the parapets and battlements.

Lara felt a tingling sensation on the back of her neck. She twisted around to see a stony grey fist burst out of the temple of Tialeis, followed by the body of a Nightprince. It’s mind-numbing scream pierced the ears of both sides as it clunkily lifted into the air on its stone-crusted wings.

The appearance of the Nightprince was quickly followed by the battlecries of hundreds of soldiers as two rivers of them poured out from the nearby alleys, catching the invading forces in a pincer.

Imryt’s heavy infantry smashed into the small channel of enemies, clearing them out while another group formed a shieldwall at the breach, fighting off soldiers that attempted to bypass the wall.

Lucia leapt up next to Lara.

“Damn liars.” the auriok hissed. Her six golden rings snapped off her arms and zipped towards the battlefield, harassing the enemy.

She was quickly joined by several other similarly grey-skinned Auriok who assaulted the invaders with rings of their own.

The Nightprince hovered above the wall, staring with its black and red eyes at Lara.

Gammond walked over, holding some strange machine that looked like it was meant to be a weapon, “He’s yours to command.” he muttered coldly, “Just make sure you don’t screw up your screw up.”

Lara winced. There wasn’t anything she could say in her defense, though she felt she was justified anyways.

“Gammond, I really thought-”

“I know. But what’s done is done.” Gammond said, “I just...I need to focus on the battlefield right now.”

Hesitantly, Lara commanded the Nightprince to allow her to ride on his back. The demon silently obliged, lifting the both of them above the battlefield. Lara had the Nightprince target their siege engines first, commanding the creature to unleash streams of violet flame onto the enemy.

Once their hooks and ladder rushers had been taken out, they flew over the forest. Lara leapt off the Nightprince, ordering him to continue attacking the enemy army. She wrapped her whip around a branch and swung over the wall of the opposing war camp.

She could only do one thing at this point: finish what she started.

Officers and generals coagulated around a central figure. The last monarch.

Lara landed, her loose spike swinging overhead and slamming into one of the few guards posted there.

The officers scattered, shouting in disarray. The guards rushed in, spears extended. Lara swung her whip around, slashing or bashing all the guards within its radius.

Lara keeled over, air rushing out her lungs as the metal sphere of a meteor hammer slammed into her gut. She stumbled to her feet, clutching her abdomen as the Tialemancer from last night drew the hammer back to her by rope.

“You.” Lara growled, “You broke your promise.”

“I promised nothing.” the Tialemancer said, “That general who made a foolish call was executed. But he did give us a very nice opening.”

Lara gritted her teeth, “What is it that you could want so much from Imryt?”

“We want freedom from Imryt.” the Tialemancer said, “Your Consulate is ripe for corruption. Just like the Ansami councils of old.”

“Democracy in any form is better than tyranny.” Lara said.

“Consuls are just as susceptible to the wealth of corporations and land owners as any mercenary or assassin.”

“That doesn’t justify a war!” Lara shouted.

She ducked as the meteor hammer swung over her head from the right before being redirected into a downward slam. Lara rolled from its path and launched her dart out, slicing the woman’s cheek.

“Our Warlock is a damned weakling.” the Tialemancer growled, “Tialeis would never stand for this. Justify a war? All conflict is justified! It breeds strength!”

Lara wrapped her whip around her hands as she closed the distance between them, slamming her knee into the woman’s jaw. She staggered, but recovered her balance, wrapping her meteor hammer up tight as well.

Lara and the woman engaged each other in a flurry of grapples aided by their rope and chain weapons, quick strikes and attempts to break each others’ bones. Lara was caught off guard, slipping slightly as the woman wrapped the rope of her hammer around her throat. Lara tugged at the rope, but the woman’s grip was too strong.

Casting a Nihilfler, Lara’s hand shot over her shoulder and spewed smoke directly into the woman’s face.

The ropes loosened enough for her to escape and return the favor with an elbow strike to the head.

Lara ran past the Tialemancer and leapt into the air. The monarch still remaining was trying to escape.

Lara’s whip lashed out, rooting its dart in the queen’s throat. Crimson splattered from the wound as she withdrew her dart and landed with a roll.

The Tialemancer pushed herself to her feet, glancing at the dead monarch, sagging somewhat in defeat.

“Anyone else?” Lara asked, brow contorted in frustration.

The officers remained silent.

“Recall your troops. Now.” Lara ordered.

“Who do you-” one of the officers started before being cut off by Lara lashing out her whip. She stopped it and drew it back inches before it pierced his skin.

“I’m in command now.” Lara said, “Withdraw your soldiers.”

___________________________________________________________

Lara waited until the Consuls left their meeting room. She stepped inside immediately after the last one made his way out.

Gammond sat at the conference table, head buried in his folded arms.

She tried to be quiet with her approach, but didn’t really know why.

“Gam…?” she murmured.

“What.” Gammond sighed with exasperation.

I...I’m sorry.” She said, “I really am. But...what else could we do, wait til the city starves? Besides, we won.”

“Did we, Lara? Did we win? Or did we just claim victory over a small skirmish that may have lost us the war?” Gammond snapped.

Lara flinched. Seeing him angry at her was like watching a knife slowly get plunged into her chest.

Gammond pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry. But I’m still right. There’s already a distasteful crowd spreading rumors. The skeptics of the Consulate are just happy seeing their point proven.”

“Wouldn’t this have happened if we went to war anyways?” Lara asked, “We knew they wouldn’t surrender. Not without force.”

“None of this would have happened if you didn’t take five hundred soldiers on your little excursion. People know we attacked first, won and still didn’t get an official declaration of surrender.” Gammond explained, “It’s impossible to take Etria and Hadal without at least a few small uprisings. Which will require more resources we don’t have.”

“What about the Maladeth troops?” Lara asked.

“Half went home after hearing what happened.” Gammond muttered.

“They deserted?” Lara asked.

“We don’t force them to fight. Not unless it’s wartime. Which technically, this isn’t. Officially, the Consuls have decided to consider this matter a domestic rebellion.” Gammond said, “And now it’s all my problem.”

Lara sank into herself slightly, “I…Is there anything I can do to make it up? Anything to make it easier on you?”

Gammond sighed, “Next time, keep in mind that anything you do in war is done on behalf of the Consulate. Our relationship off the battlefield is different than on it. On the field, I’m not Gammond Hross. I’m the Consul of War. So anything you want to do related to battle, you come to me first, understand?”

Lara nodded.

Gammond cocked his head half-heartedly, “I guess there is something else you could do for me. I planned to do some work on the leylining project, but I have to spend tonight writing a lot of letters and deciding troop deployment. Could you work on it tonight?”

Lara nodded again, “Of course.”

“Thank you.” Gammond said.

“We’re off the field, right?” Lara asked.

Gammond furrowed his brow, “Does this look like a battlefield to you?”

“Right.” Lara said before pecking him on the cheek, “Good night. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Gammond blinked before breaking into an extremely restrained half-smile as Lara fled the room for his lab.

Lara entered the laboratory, scanning the room for Gammond’s leylining project. On one of the many workbenches, sat two halves of a metal chamber split open with tiny specks of Megyno crystal embedded inside.

She sat at the bench, observing Gammond’s handiwork. It was impressive, even accounting for his flerish. It seemed he still had yet to wire the contraption up and piece it all together.

Lara started working on wiring the thing up. It was almost meditative in a way. It gave her a chance to reflect.

She had done the right thing. Who gave a damn if it upset a few people? Her attack was a one time thing to avoid another siege on Imryt. Granted, she didn’t exactly succeed, but she still ended it before it became an extended siege.

She thought back to the Tialemancer’s words.

_Your Consulate is ripe for corruption._

As though a monarchy was any better. The government changed because the monarch was corrupt and abdicated.

But then again...a people like the Emryds? Wasn’t stability what they needed? The monarchy wasn’t powerful enough to ensure any real stability. This Consulate...it really didn’t matter who got elected. Gammond looked just about ready to die from after only a few days of being Consul. Any normal man would want something in return. But the Consulate is also depowered.

Lara trusted that Gammond wasn’t the kind of man to take bribes, but say a lesser man took power...large companies could pay Consuls to legislate in a certain way.

And the people-especially the Emryds-would fight with each other, never coming to an agreement until one side can no longer fight. Nothing would get done. They couldn’t just get rid of the government and let people fight to the death over power. Emreth would never unite. It would just be the current Territorylord situation, but less civilized.

While the Consul was certainly stronger than the monarchy, maybe it wasn’t strong enough.

She felt a pit form in her stomach. Poor Gammond. This was his dream, to unite Emreth. But this job, this burden of Consulship was making him lose sight of that dream. Under any other circumstance, Gammond would’ve appreciated Lara’s initiative. He would’ve ensured the peace deal was made then and there, which Lara agreed was entirely her fault and flat out stupid. But nevertheless, his mind was elsewhere when he was acting as Consul. He couldn’t even let himself smile when she kissed him.

Maybe it was just the stress. Once the country was united, he would go back to his normal self. She would just have to make that process as easy for him as possible.

Lara sat back from the chamber, each piece of Megyno crystal wired together. She lit her fingers with a Nihilfler and welded the two halves shut. Hopefully this would help with that goal.


	22. Chapter 21: Justice

Edmund knocked on the wooden door to Camilla’s room.

She cracked it open, allowing him inside. The past week had been a lot of sneaking around to evade the watchful eyes of Edmund’s supervisors.

Camilla’s quarters were large in comparison to most and she had gone to great trouble to get it properly furnished with cushioned chairs, incense and luxury rugs.

The flickering candlelight illuminated the warm, soft color palette of her room.

“How much did all this cost you?” Edmund chuckled.

“Not. One. Nin.” Camilla grinned, “Nobles are always dying to know each other’s dirty little secrets.”

Edmund nodded with approval, “You pull the same scheme for tonight?”

“Please be so kind as to not refer to them as schemes.” Camilla chortled, drawing close to him. Edmund picked up a new scent from her. Lavender? “They carry such a negative connotation. They are...financial ploys.”

“Ploy isn’t much better.” Edmund raised an eyebrow.

“But it is far more uncommon.” Camilla tilted her head.

Edmund pursed his lips, “Fair point.”

Camilla placed a kiss on his lips, “How’ve you been?”

“Dying to see you.” Edmund smirked.

Camilla rolled her eyes, but couldn’t resist letting a small snicker out.

“So did you get everything we need?” Edmund asked.

Camilla nodded, “I did manage to procure all the necessary materials...but I think you’ve overestimated how much food and drink the human body can hold at once.” She cast a sideways glance to several baskets full of foodstuffs and bottles of alcohol.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to try and give you alcohol poisoning.” Edmund chuckled, “Most of that is going to the Snakes and Pious.”

Camilla turned to look at the baskets, a look of despair on her face, “You’re using our night together to go do charity?”

“I’m not that much of an ass.” Edmund wrapped his arms around her shoulders, “Our charity will be dispensed by way of partying. I found a place with a little secluded cove for us.”

“Still...we’re just giving it away?”

“The food, yes. But the alcohol...just think of what a tired soldier would do for alcohol.” Edmund whispered into her ear.

“Oh, you know just how to tickle my sadistic side, don’t you?” Camilla grinned, looking up at him, “But we’re saving a bottle of wine for us, understand?”

“I thought that was a given.” Edmund smiled back at her.

After sneaking out of the keep, both of them hitched the baskets to horses and started off in the direction of the large rock formations in the desert a few miles away from Fort Killigrew.

They were beat there by Pasco and many, many Snakes and soldiers. Hundreds. Maybe even a thousand. Djarig did once report that he had delegated some of his work to the others in his barrack, but...Edmund never thought this many would come.

The men cheered as Edmund and Camilla appeared with the baskets.

Edmund noticed that some of the Pious had even brought their wives who’d been brought to the front to tend to armor, maintain equipment and work other jobs that didn’t require a man be spared.

“The food is first come first serve, but stay orderly! And don’t be a dick and take more than you need!” Edmund shouted, “The alcohol, we’ll be holding contests for at our leisure! And don’t hurt each other too much! But other than that, there are...No! Rules!”

The Pious and Snakes cheered.

Edmund, Camilla and Pasco set the baskets of food down as people lined up to assemble a reasonable meal for themselves.

Djarig and the four men from his barrack, along with Taue and a Pious soldier named Faroiv approached him from the crowd.

“Gentlemen.” Edmund greeted them.

Taue had since joined Edmund’s initiative, trying to spread the word to the nonhuman ranks among Atrell’s army and Faroiv was keeping a close watch on the smaller time authorities like low rank Nobles.

“Djarig, you and your men have earned more than your fill.” Edmund smiled, tossing one of the few Knurrins he had on him to the man. Djarig snatched the coin out of the air, smiling, “Always a pleasure, _Vizia_.” The word apparently meant ‘boss’ in Janiri.

“With this turn out, we could very well make a stand right now.” Edmund said.

“Well, much of it has to do with your performance at the battle of the Maw, sir.” Faroiv said, “The soldiers watched you defeat the Marksman.”

“I suppose. Nevertheless, keep up the good work. From here, we’re finally ready to take action.” Edmund said before dismissing them.

He started to jog towards Camilla.

Edmund hefted up the basket of alcohol and turned to Pasco, “Keep everything in line on the ground for me, alright?”

“Of course.” Pasco nodded, “You two go do...whatever it is you do. Call me if you need someone to serenade her.”

“Oh, I’d be interested to hear that.” Camilla chuckled.

“Perhaps another time.” Edmund grinned as he left with the alcohol, followed by Camilla.

They arrived at a rather tall point in the rock formations. Edmund grabbed Camilla by the waist, much to her surprise and exerted a tremendous force downward, propelling them up enough for Edmund to land on a ledge. He bounded up to the other side of the ravine, then bounded back, climbing the walls.

They finally landed on top of the rocks, overlooking a sea of sand.

Camilla stumbled out of his grasp, clutching her mouth and stomach.

“Oh! Sorry. Are you alright?” Edmund asked.

Camilla held up a finger to prevent his approach to help her. She took a deep breath and stood up straight, “Gods and champions, Edmund.” Camilla said with remarkable calmness, “Warn me next time.”

Edmund cringed, “Sorry. Again.”

“It’s quite alright.” Camilla sighed, “I was just unprepared.”

Edmund nodded before sitting down close to the edge of the sheer cliff of the ravine. He patted an area of rock next to him, urging Camilla to sit.

She sat cross legged next to him, “What a view…”

“Right?” Edmund grinned.

The desert below stretched out far beyond the warm torchlight of the party underneath them. The sea of dryness was coated in bluish white moonlight, its emptiness and soft glow inspiring a sense of tranquility.

“Is it always this...nice?” Camilla asked.

Edmund shook his head, “Only when the moon is full. Without the brightness, it just looks dull.”

Camilla sighed, “Then we’re pretty lucky, huh?”

Edmund turned to her, “Do you believe in luck?”

“You don’t?” Camilla raised an eyebrow.

Edmund shrugged, “Not really.”

“Then what in the Roil are the gods doing?” Camilla deadpanned.

He chuckled in response. After he calmed, he turned back to the scenery of the desert, “I never took you for someone who believed in luck.”

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“You seem like you rely more on your skills than on luck.”

“I do.” she said simply, “But I’m not going to tempt a universal force to shit all over my plans for life.”

“Like what? I mean, after this dagger fiasco you’ve found yourself in.” Edmund said.

Camilla sighed, pursing her lips, “Haven’t really thought that much about after. Though I feel like I’d be good at noble politics. Maybe work my way up to the advisory cabinet of some monarch.”

“That’s a pretty big leap for a ‘maybe’.” Edmund snorted.

“Hey, we all need ambitions. Without them, how are we different from the animals?” Camilla muttered, “What about you? Any plans for the future you had before you became the Knight?”

“Ironically, I think becoming the Knight has given me a plan for the future. I’ve only ever focused on surviving.” Edmund said, “But now that I’m no longer in danger of starving to death, I think I wanna follow in my father’s footsteps...kind of.”

“What was your father?” Camilla asked.

“A revolutionary.”

Camilla wheezed with laughter, snorting on accident, “A what?” she exclaimed.

“Stop laughing. I know I can’t overthrow the Empire.” Edmund muttered.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so...I don’t know. Please, continue.”

Edmund rolled his eyes, “My father was a huge supporter of the Mass Apostasy when a huge amount of Pious and Trwaj openly rejected the institutional teachings of Bronduk and started trying to cause reform.”

“Was he…”

“Yes.” Edmund nodded, “Hung for his crimes.”

“So...how does that play into you?” Camilla asked.

“I want to start the reform he always talked about. But from the inside. None of this ‘born this way’ dogma. People deserve a chance to make something more of themselves.” Edmund said.

Camilla nodded, “I get it. But do you think you’ll be able to do such a thing? I mean...you’re the symbol of the very ideology you oppose.”

“Well if the symbol feels something’s wrong, the Church has no choice than to take a long, hard look at itself.” Edmund said.

Camilla stretched her arms up, “Enough philosophy for one night. What’s your poison?”

Edmund shrugged, “You know I never had access to drink as a child.”

“Whiskey, then.” Camilla said, “Wine’s a tad too soft for me.”

Camilla pulled a small glass bottle full of a golden-brown liquid from the basket and popped it open. She took a swig from it, cringing before handing it off to Edmund.

Edmund took a sip, jerking back as the liquid slid down his throat like fire. His face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Gods, that’s gross.” Edmund coughed.

“Oh, poor baby.” Camilla put on a look of faux concern, “Good little boys hold their liquor.”

“Shut up.” Edmund grunted before taking another, much longer swig. He resisted the urge to throw it back up with a long exhale.

“Suppose I underestimated you.” Camilla muttered, plucking the bottle from his hands.

“No, you didn’t.” a grin spread across Edmund’s face, “You will have to carry me home.”

“What if I were to just leave you on this rock?” Camilla asked.

“I’d be very hurt and wouldn’t kiss you for a week.” Edmund said.

Camilla scoffed, “Like you could go that long. But, I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”

“I hope.” Edmund chuckled.

Camilla laid flat on her back, so Edmund joined her, staring up at the night sky.

“How well do you know constellations?” Camilla asked, “Wait...stupid question. Sorry.”

“Eh.” Edmund shrugged. Camilla was probably used to being surrounded by educated people, so he couldn’t blame her. Though sometimes he felt a bit lacking in the intelligence department.

“See those stars there?” Camilla pointed to their right, “The really bright one and the stars around it. Those make up Nadriel, the Clarion Angel. Legends say she still exists in the Clarion Stone.”

“Really? I ought to ask her sometime.” Edmund chuckled.

“Would you look at that.” Camilla pointed directly upwards, “Yldroa, the She-Dragon is in Prime Center tonight.”

“What about it?” Edmund asked.

A mischievous smile crept across her face as she rolled over, positioning herself on top of him, nearly straddling his leg, “Yldroa is the patroness of lovers.”

Her hands cupped his face as she kissed him. Her tongue breaking through his lips coaxed a jerk of surprise out of him, but he soon fell into her frivolity.

Camilla parted from him to gasp for breath, “Did you ever pick up how a man and a woman make a child from the streets?”

Edmund furrowed his brow, “I’m not a complete fool. But...should we really be doing this? This is a little...fast.”

“It’s only fast for Atrellians. Besides, we’re not courting each other. All the yelling and music below will block out our noise. Trust me, you’ll enjoy this.” Camilla said before kissing him again.

She slipped her hands under his shirt, her fingers chill to the touch. Edmund took hold of her thigh as Camilla deepened the kiss even further.

She grabbed his free hand and pulled it to her chest, his hand grasping her soft breast over her blouse. She moaned into his mouth as they writhed together. One of her hands slipped down, cupping his crotch. The sensation sent a chill up Edmund’s spine as blood started rushing from his head down south.

However, in the heat of the moment, Edmund’s senses were still keen.

“Wait a minute.” Edmund broke from the kiss.

“What?” Camilla whispered, looking a little disappointed.

“Why is it quiet?” Edmund asked.

Camilla sat up, still straddling him, “You’re right.” she frowned.

Edmund sat up as she rolled aside. He glanced over the cliff, then immediately flattened himself against the rock, taking Camilla and holding her tight to him.

“What? What is it?” Camilla hissed.

“Enforcers.” Edmund whispered, “They found us.”

“How?” Camilla asked.

“I don’t know. Fuck, what do we do?” Edmund grit his teeth.

“Go down and talk to them.” Camilla said.

“What?”

“Edmund, you’re the Knight. You have authority over them. Use it.”

“I’m not abusing my power, Camilla.” Edmund insisted.

“Is it abuse when you’re saving the careers of two hundred soldiers and the lives of three hundred Snakes?” she hissed.

She was right, as usual. Edmund relaxed his grip.

“Alright. I’ll go down.” he staggered to his feet, the whiskey starting to kick in a little bit.

Edmund took a deep breath of hesitation before leaping off the cliff. With two streams of force, he slowed his descent enough to land semi-smoothly.

Pasco was very quietly and very violently speaking with the nine Enforcers that had arrived at the scene.

“Ah-Edmund!” Pasco shouted, “Please disperse this rabble.”

“Are you the one responsible for this?” A female Enforcer asked. Her expression was completely hidden by her ceramic mask.

“What if I am? This is none of your business, officer.” Edmund said with all the authority he could muster.

“Sir Knight, there is a curfew in our Fort.” the Enforcer said, “These soldiers and these Snakes are in clear violation of that and the rule against leaving Fort Killigrew’s grounds at night.”

“I invited them out here. They aren’t to blame.” Edmund said, “These soldiers needed time to relax and the Snakes needed food. Not only that, but see how well they get along?”

“The Pious shouldn’t mingle with heretics and criminals. It will corrupt their souls.” the woman said loudly to the cowering Pious.

“When the Prophets first declared the word of Bronduk to the people, did the people take their word for it?” Edmund asked.

“This has nothing to do with the subject at hand, sir.” the Enforcer said.

“They didn’t. They all denied Bronduk. But did the Prophets close themselves off from the world so they wouldn’t be corrupted? No.” Edmund continued, “They continued to mingle. Especially with the impoverished and criminals. That’s how they learned to understand Bronduk’s true teachings of charity.”

“I…” the Enforcer murmured.

“So either intervene in a Knight’s good work, fuck off or join us and revel a bit.” Edmund said.

The Enforcer crossed her arms, “Hmph. Reveling is only done by the wicked.”

One of her colleagues stepped forward and grabbed some food out of the baskets. He took his mask off and joined the soldiers, striking up a conversation.

“Officer Saunier!” the Enforcer shouted.

“Sorry, Captain.” the officer shrugged, “I try my best to live like the Prophets.”

The other members of the Enforcer’s squad slowly started to join the party until it was back in full swing again.

Only one officer stayed by his captain’s side.

The captain huffed, “Fine! Have your little revelry. See if I care.”

As she and her one remaining soldier marched away, Edmund let out a small sigh of relief. Had he had access to more reading material aside from Flerical science books and scripture, he never could’ve diffused that situation.

He bounded back up to the cliff, where Camilla was waiting, significantly less clothed than before, wearing only her lacy undergarments and long white jacket to keep herself warm.

Edmund blinked, stunned by her display.

“Did all go well?” She asked in a breathy, sultry tone.

Edmund nodded, “Er...mostly.”

“Good.” Camilla allowed the coat to erotically slip off her shoulders. Edmund didn’t even know a person could do that, “Let’s pick up where we left off.”

______________________________________________________________

Edmund twisted around, popping his spine. He and Camilla had woken just before dawn and were on their way back to the fort on horseback.

“Ugh,” he groaned, “Remind me never to be on the bottom when making love on a cliff.”

“Did it really take that much away from the experience?” Camilla grinned.

“I guess not. Still. Ow.” Edmund chuckled.

“You’ve been through worse.” Camilla scoffed.

Edmund narrowed his eyes as the fort came into view. There was a collection of figures at the base of the gate, “What is that?”

Camilla breathed in, touching Edmund’s arm and her eyes glowing a sickly bright green. As they did, Edmund’s vision got slightly worse.

“It’s an escort formation. For the head of security, major Dawleth.” She said. She let go of him and his vision returned to normal.

“What was that?” Edmund asked.

“A Rotfler.” Camilla said, “Glorekja and Sylvanor. I can deprive someone I touch of a sense and heighten my own.”

“Why would the head of security be out there?” he furrowed his brow.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Camilla muttered, “We’ve been reported.”

Edmund cursed, “Damn. Go around. I’ll handle them.”

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“We can let them know about us. Suspicions will only rise. If you’re with me.” Edmund said, “Sorry.”

“I can walk a mile.” Camilla said, taking a water skin and a tin of Godshards off her horse. As she slid off her saddle, her form shimmered into invisibility. Her footsteps lightly appeared in the sand as she ran off.

Edmund grabbed the horse by its reins and held it with him.

He braced himself as he approached the squad of Enforcers and Major Dawleth.

“General Thorne wants to see you, sir Knight. Please dismount.” Dawleth said. He was a stout man, more wide than he was tall. He wasn’t native Atrellian, but he was a noble.

Edmund complied, sliding off his saddle and following the major as his horses were taken.

He was led into the Keep’s throne room before long, where Elius, General Thorne and the other administrators and military leaders were waiting.

“Edmund Isley.” Thorne boomed, “Last night, one of my personal guard was alerted to your...breach of front conduct.”

“Respectfully sir, it was only a bit of charity. I don’t think the curfew rules are that important relative to the state your soldiers are in.” Edmund said.

“If it was just the curfew, you’d be off the hook. But calling an assembly intermixing the Pious and Snakes? We cannot allow such things.”

“That’s what the Enforcer said last night. But I wish to reiterate, the Snakes will not corrupt the Pious as you would claim. Read your scripture more often.” He stood a little straighter as Thorne gritted his teeth.

“You may be the Knight boy, but that does not excuse you from reverence to your betters!” Thorne growled, “Archcaster, teach your apprentice some manners! And ensure that this never happens again, lest I see it fit to drastic measures to ensure order within this camp.”

Elius nodded, a grimace on his face.

“Is that all you have to say?” Edmund growled.

“What?” Thorne glanced back at him.

“I said, is that all you have to say?” Edmund repeated, louder now, “Are you just going to dismiss me like that? Why?”

“Are you saying you wish to be punished?”

“What have I done to deserve your mercy?” He asked, “Is it because I’m the Knight? What in the Abyss did I do to earn that?”

“Be satisfied with my judgement and leave, you insubordinate boy!” Thorne boomed. But his commanding presence did nothing to Edmund.

“What if I were one of your soldiers? You’d give me a thousand lashes and send me home! And if I was still a Snake? You’d string me up by my ankles and leave me in a sandstorm!”

“Edmund, stop this!” Elius hissed.

“No! I’m sick and tired of the mistreatment we show the poor. The Pious and Snakes are people too. This violation of your petty laws never would have needed to happen if you didn’t use your laws to strangle your soldiers with a chain of enslavement!”

“Slavery is a barbaric practice that was outlawed long ago.” Thorne gritted his teeth, “I haven’t the patience to deal with you any longer.”

“Neither do I. And the same for the rest of your soldiers! They’re the only reason you all can wage this sick war!” Edmund shouted, “Atrell claims that their strong protects their weak. How unfortunate that that’s true. The weak and lazy nobles sit in their keeps and their forts, waited on since birth, never doing a thing to earn their place. Meanwhile the poor, stronger than any of you, struggle to survive, doing whatever they can to earn the next twenty four hours.”

“Edmund!” Elius grabbed the boy by his shoulders, shaking him.

Edmund cast a disregarding look at Elius, causing the old man to recoil. He looked back to Thorne, “I ask you to think about that the next time you hold an audience over a curfew violation.”

After that, Edmund allowed himself to be dragged away by Elius. Elius tugged at him, throwing both into his study and slamming the wooden door.

“What were you thinking, blowing up like that?” Elius hissed.

“I just told the whole fort what I was thinking.” Edmund muttered.

Elius let out an exasperated sigh, “Clearly, I have not taught you what it means to be a Brondumancer or the Knight.”

“Considering you haven’t even told me how to use Brondumancy, I’d have to agree.” Edmund scoffed.

“Is that what this is about? Do you just want more power?”

“No!” Edmund exclaimed, “I just want-”

“To earn your position, I heard you.” The old man raised his voice, “Fine, then. You will earn your right to be called a Brondumancer. Right now.”

Edmund frowned as Elius briskly walked to the other end of the room, “What are you-”

A bottle of glass soared towards his face. Edmund barely caught the bottle, full of viscous, golden liquid.

“Drink that.” Elius said.

“What is it?”

“Drink it, boy.” Elius snapped.

Hesitantly, Edmund downed the bottle. He was out of line, but why did it matter so much to Elius? He’d supported his charity in the past, hadn’t he?

The liquid was bitter and warm, like a syrup made from oil.

The moment the last drops entered his mouth, Edmund’s back slammed against the study’s stone walls. Pain sparked in his sore spine.

“Brondumancy is the manifestation of Justice, whatever that is for the Brondumancer. Use your desire for justice and defeat me, Edmund.” Elius said.

Edmund strained against Elius’s overwhelming Lawfler. He sensed a new well of power within him, alien, yet familiar all the same. He drew on it without hesitation.

But nothing happened.

He used up the energy, casting it out into the world. But no such fler or flerish followed. But he had to fight somehow.

Edmund cast his own Lawfler, delving into the essence of Elius’s fler, separating the two wells within the old man’s body. Edmund was given relief as he fell from the wall.

“Are you insane, Elius?” he exclaimed.

“No. I am merely teaching you the way you wish to be taught. Now earn your power!” Elius shouted, throwing his hand upwards. Edmund was swept up by a gout of wind.

He only managed to avoid slamming into the ceiling with a burst of force large enough to suspend Elius’s.

Edmund tried using the new well of power again, but to no effect. Even though the well was draining, nothing happened outside of his energy reserves.

Edmund slammed his shoulder into the study’s door, running into the hallway past confused servants and nobles.

He reached a place where the hallway overlooked the large but unnecessary ballroom, separated from a steep drop only by a wooden guard rail. Edmund leapt off the rail, grabbing a chandelier to swing him to an overhang on the other side.

He barely latched onto the rail and pulled himself over it.

Elius had come out, glaring at him from across the ballroom.

“Running won’t help, Edmund.” He said.

“Only if you don’t have to go through four flights of stairs,” Edmund replied.

Elius was too old to do anything like that acrobatic maneuver. But he was Archcaster for a reason.

Elius shot up, propelled by a blast of force from his foot. He vaulted over the rail with ease, then seemingly ran on the air towards Edmund, using blasts of force to balance himself.

Edmund cursed and bolted from the scene.

Justice. Justice. What about justice? What the hell does it mean to manifest justice?

The ideas behind Brondumancy that Elius had explained seemed completely asinine.

Camilla was a flerisher, wasn’t she?

No. He couldn’t further endanger her. Edmund would just have to survive on his own abilities. He cast a Faithfler.

Listen, he told himself.

The experiences of all the plants nearby were let into his mind. There was a patch of moss in the entrance of a secret passage.

Without people to support him, Faithflers were pretty useless. Their only other abilities let him strengthen the wills of others and heal others. But plants were impartial.

Edmund burst into an unoccupied bedroom, closing the door behind him and using the moss’s location to feel out the mechanisms of whatever entrance was in the keep. A revolving bookshelf. Classic.

Edmund pulled as many books as he could off the shelf until one caught at an angle. The bookshelf loosened on a hinge, spinning sideways.

Edmund slipped through the gap and shut the bookcase back into place.

At last, he could finally catch his breath.

What had gotten into Elius? Was he mad?

 _Justice_. His mind was still on that. _What is your justice?_

Justice? What did Atrell know of justice? They were stagnant. A slowly building scaffold rather than the solution to a puzzle. Patient, rather than passionate. But patience didn’t bring change when they needed it.

Atrell offered only safety and empty guarantees. Edmund knew better than anyone, risks were what life is about. The empire knew nothing of opportunity, the will of the people or freedom.

Edmund’s justice was to show the bureaucrats what power would come about by trusting the people with their own lives.

He would return the favor to those who trampled over the people some day. Whether by peace or violence. Almost like a snake.

He was a Snake, after all.

Edmund closed his eyes and listened to his Faithfler, receiving the messages of the local house plants and the resilient desert vegetation that had made it within the keep.

Elius was headed towards him. Fast.

Edmund retracted the reach of his Faithfler and used his own thief’s wit to determine Elius’s arrival into the room.

Footsteps stomped into the room. Elius wandered slowly through the room, unveiling several good, but incorrect hiding spots. Eventually, he passed the bookshelf.

He had no reliable escape route. And he had yet to discover his Brondumancy. Even so, he was tired of running. He’d have to fight nonetheless.

Now!

Edmund burst out from behind the bookcase, swinging his saber for Elius’s neck.

Edmund stopped just short of striking the man’s throat as Elius stopped swinging his staff just a hair’s width from Edmund’s skull.

Elius glanced down at the blade, “Nothing, huh? I really thought that would do it.”

“How in the Roil was that supposed to help with Brondumancy? And furthermore, what in the Abyss was that about?” Edmund exclaimed.

“Think before you speak next time, boy. Only powerful people can afford to speak their minds.” Elius said, lowering his staff.

Edmund lowered his hands, “Well it shouldn’t be that way.”

“Justice will come to those who wait. I wouldn’t worry so much about it.” Elius said.


	23. Chapter 22: the Siege of Loerparos

Things in the North had escalated far quicker than expected.

Imryt covered the four provinces of Maladeth, Imryt and Etria, but lost Hadal to the seperatist Oligarchy of Itkelseje that stretched from the Seya mountains west to the coast, made up of Hadal, Itkelseje and Pritgalus. Another seperatist state formed at the very north around the Nordtham mountain range adopted the name the Kingdom of Emreth, which was made up of the two remaining provinces of Cezebruk and Krofaj.

Lara, Gammond and Lucia were on the Warpath once again, accompanied by the newly inducted troops of the allied army that besieged Imryt and Thekela, the former queen of Etria’s Tialemancer and the one who had fought Lara before.

Neither Lara nor Thekela had any interest in speaking with each other, despite being military officers in arms.

The Oligarchy of Itkelseje was the Consulate’s target. Most villages and towns really had no allegiance to either, but the occasional settlement would overtly rebel against Consulate occupation.

Though once the oligarchy was beaten, those towns had little choice other than to join the Consulate.

And because they were on the attack this time, directness was to Emreth’s benefit.

The capital city of Itkelseje, Loerparos, was known as the Fortress city. Closest to the east coast of the peninsula, it was a prime target for pirate raids and as such, made the city center nearly impenetrable. That is, for normal soldiers.

Imryt soldiers shoved the biggest battering ram Lara had ever seen up a slope towards the gates while she helped Lucia’s unit hold off interceptors attempting to disable the siege engines. Magonels launched flaming rocks from inside the walls down upon Imryt forces.

“Keep the ram moving!” Lucia shouted in the distance.

Lara cleared out another swath of soldiers, giving her a small break before the next wave got too close.

She had added a helmet to her Roilplate, not trusting herself to be able to defend with just the whip. It was a two handed weapon anyways, so that meant no shield.

Members of Tialeis’s cult were also on the field, summoning smaller, spindly black-skinned demons called Shades to harass the enemy.

Lara looked out to the wall of Loerparos. About ten to twenty figures were descending it by rope. Lara opened the visor on her helm as the figures leapt down, taking their ropes with them. They were rope darts. Tialemancers.

“We have Tialemancers!” Lara shouted.

Lucia shouted something in Auriok, her native language. About fifteen Auriok launched forward a pair of rings and dragged themselves into the battlefield by them, going to engage the newcomers.

Normally Lara would’ve engaged, but she was told to protect the ram until a strike force was ordered to go after the Oligarchs. News flash, she was the strike force. Despite her screw up, many officers acknowledged her usefulness in cutting off the head of the snake. Normally people with Shadowflers would be trained as assassins called Stalkers, but they couldn’t really combat flerfingers like Ignitors.

A horn bellowed in the distance. Not a retreat or attack signal. An arrival?

Lara glanced back and caught sight of Gammond on horseback. Her jaw dropped slightly at what he was wearing. It was a slim fitting suit of plate armor covered in a polished silver layer. His red cape flapped in the wind. Everything from the gauntlets to the greaves looked slick and immaculate, the colors contrasting the black and gold of her own armor.

Gammond dismounted as he rode up to her.

Lara looked him up and down, “Damn, Roilplate looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” He said lightly as he pulled on his helmet, “I brought the heavy cavalry with me equipped with those repeating Thunderlances that we still need a name for.”

“Boom sticks?”

“That’s just thunderlance, but stupid.” Gammond chuckled.

“How about ‘gun’?”

“Gun?” Gammond asked.

“ _Nguna_ means chain in Old Emryd, right? All the pellets fire one after another as if they’re chained together. Take out the weird Emryd syntax and you have gun.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch. I have no clue where you got that from.” Gammond muttered, “But whatever. We’ll call them guns. I’m here to tell you to go kill the generals.”

“What about the Oligarchs?” Lara asked.

“Only if they’re with the generals. If not, don’t bother taking the extra risk, clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Lara said, “Is a Nightprince ready for me?”

“Actually, you’re going to have to get in the old fashioned way. It’s the middle of the day and we kind of want to be subtle about this until after we kill the Oligarchs.”

Lara sighed, “Fine. How am I getting in?”

“We started digging tunnels to sink the walls, but their walls just...won’t come down. So we’ve tunneled into their sewers.” Gammond said, handing Lara a rolled up piece of parchment, “Here’s a map.”

Lara gagged, “Sewers?”

“I mean, do you really want to scale the wall right now?” he asked.

“No.” Lara pouted, “There better be a bath ready for me when I’m finished.”

“I’ll have that arranged.” Gammond said stiffly.

“Oh, and _you’re_ washing me off.” she added.

Gammond shrugged, “Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!”

“I know.” Gammond said, “But you have to kill those generals first.”

Lara huffed, “I’m not crawling through a claustrophobic little tunnel. I’ll find a drain. Where’s the River Nordtham?”

“West.” he replied, “Good luck.”

____________________________________________

Lara ripped off a sewer grate that emptied into the Nordtham river. She gagged, scrunching up her nose and squeezing her eyes shut as the stench invaded her nostrils.

“I’m going to make that boy clean me like a gods damned cat.” She growled, “See how he likes the taste of sewage.”

She planted her armored boot into the stream of thick brownish-green sludge, only breathing when she really needed to. She stepped onto the maintenance pathways of brick constructed on the sides of the sewer the moment she got herself inside.

She stomped her boots, trying to get bits of waste off them. It was no use.

Lara opened the map, lighting a lantern she kept strapped to her hip with a Nihilfler.

Several of the generals were positioned on the wall, but the ones she was meant to go after were commanding their soldiers from the castle which likely housed most of the citizens right now.

Lara sighed and navigated through the sewers, keeping an eye out for rats and roaches.

She walked her way to the grate marked on the map. It was located inside the castle walls. If they really wanted to, the Consulate could send an army through here and just take the city like that.

Lara grabbed onto the grate, yanking it off its bolts after softening them up with some heat. She crawled out into a small courtyard and staggered to her feet. No one was there. Good.

Eating a few God Shards, Lara moved into the castle, hiding herself against a wall. Just across from this courtyard was a larger one full of people. But none of them looked like soldiers.

 _If I were a general, where would I be?_ Lara thought. The upper floors would be the most defensible in a breach. She cast a Shadowfler, veiling herself. Most Sparkers would be out fighting on the front. It was a safe bet she’d be out of range of any nosy flerfingers.

Lara crept up a spiral staircase, trying to be as silent as she could in her armor.

As she got to the second floor, she could hear voices arguing.

“We should submit to them before we use up all our resources fighting them!” one man shouted.

“And surrender everything we’ve fought to gain? Not a chance!” another man yelled.

“It’s useless to fight till our last breath! They have the Warlock!” a woman roared.

“And what of it? Do you really believe those stories? That she can summon demons with a flick of her hand? Or drive a man insane just by thinking about it? What nonsense!” the first man sounded older than the others.

“Is it? This is the Warlock we’re talking about. Tialeis has many powers, so why wouldn’t his champion?” the younger man asked.

“We haven’t the time to discuss tall tales about a Champion they probably haven’t even deployed. Think about it, she’s the face of their army. What would they do if she died?” said the older man.

 _That’d be a worry if I could die in normal combat._ Lara scoffed in her mind.

“I say we arm up the men and boys and have our remaining forces retreat to the castle. We have enough food stockpiled for an extended siege. If things go bad, we can take King Harvald’s offer.”

An offer? From the Kingdom? Lara listened closer. She was certain these were the generals, but the information was useful.

“And you call me out for believing nonsense. You believe his little ‘alliance’ plan? He’ll just march in and take our lands for himself.” the woman said.

“Well, what choice do we have? The King Regent never said anything about a government rising up in Imryt once he abdicated! We were supposed to be the only ones.” the older man growled.

 _And so the plot thickens._ Lara muttered in her head. Though her only mission was to kill the generals. The Oligarchs would be ripe for interrogation later on.

Lara dropped her veil of invisibility as she stepped into the conference room the generals had occupied.

They froze.

“Guards!” the woman shouted while the younger man drew a sword.

Lara let her spine whip drop and slowly started to twirl it in her hand.

“That’s...That’s the Warlock!” the woman exclaimed.

The older man reached for a Thunderlance lying in the corner of the room, but Lara speared him through the neck.

She quickly dispatched the other two, just as three guards showed up in the doorway.

“This city will soon fall. You choose whether or not you die.” Lara muttered.

“Damn you, Consulate devil!” a man roared before attacking.

Lara pierced her thumb on the handle. She made a serpentine motion and yanked, the whip falling around their necks and violently slashing with the newly extended spines of bone.

And like that, her job was done. She might as well make the siege easier for them as well.

Lara descended through the castle, killing anyone who stood in her way with a quick flash of her whip.

No civilian dared touch her as she pulled the gates open. Consulate soldiers had already breached the walls with the battering ram and were fighting their way through the city.

But once the castle gates burst open and saw the cold exterior of Lara’s helmet looking back at them, the Oligarch soldiers started to surrender.

____________________________________________________________

“Were you expecting this to be...humiliating?” Gammond asked as he scrubbed Lara’s arm with soap while she lounged in a large tub.

“Not until I start telling you how much better the simplest peasants are at this. Don’t neglect the underarm.” Lara grinned to herself.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gammond muttered, “I’m a scientist and a tactician, not a maidservant.”

“‘It benefits the one who leads to know the burdens of both the master and the slave and wear them upon his back’” Lara quoted, “Brondukan scripture.”

“That’s an ironic sentiment.” Gammond said, “Though I suppose the author has a point.”

“Hm. I rather like Tialeisic scripture’s take on it. ‘Watch closely, the servant and ensure you never wear his face of relent. Watch closely the master and ensure you never speak his words of carelessness.’” Lara mused.

“You seem to be really growing on the Tialeisic way of thinking.” Gammond commented.

“Well, when given the choice between freedom and morality, I think I prefer freedom.” Lara said.

“What kind of morality are you throwing out?” Gammond asked.

“The annoying kind.” Lara grabbed Gammond by the arm and pulled him into the tub as he yelped in surprise.

She kissed him on the lips as she ran her hands down his shirtless torso.

Gammond broke from the kiss slightly, “Now why’d you have to go and get my suit pants all wet?”

“Shouldn’t have worn them in the bath.” Lara said.

“This is a bit...forward of you.”

“Are you uncomfortable?” she asked.

“Aside from the wet pants, not really.” Gammond smiled, “But I do have a meeting in half an hour.”

“Forget the meeting.” Lara urged in a breathy, desperate voice, “You always have meetings. Take a bath with me.”

Gammond sighed in frustration. There was no way he would still decide to hold himself back. Here she was, naked in a tub, pulling him on top of her.

“Fine.” Gammond said, “But I’m staying on the other side of the tub. I don’t want anything to happen that would make me lose track of time.”

Lara smiled, “I don’t know if that’d be enough to keep your eye on a clock.”

Gammond stripped himself under the soapy waters of the tub before dropping his pile of soaking clothes onto the tile floor.

“Oh?” Lara raised an eyebrow.

“Again. Pants are really uncomfortable. Not an invitation.” Gammond chortled.

“I’d think a strapping young man such as yourself would just about die for the chance to sit across from a naked woman.” Lara said, semi-jokingly.

“Do the men in Atrell have no self respect?” he chuckled.

Lara shrugged, “In certain ways, I suppose no.”

“Also, I...I guess I’m just not as driven for that sort of thing.” Gammond furrowed his brow as if observing the air very, very closely.

“Well...that makes my job much more difficult.”

Gammond blinked, “How does that interfere with a war?”

“My job as your lover, silly.” Lara sighed, “You’re so...stressed out all the time. I thought maybe a distraction would help ease that a little.”

“Oh. I...I hadn’t noticed. I’m so-”

“It is in no way your fault in any way, shape or form.” Lara said, pointing at him aggressively.

“Right. But you’re quick to pick up on things. Being a Consul is really exhausting. Especially the Consul of War in the middle of a civil war.” he said, “I don’t want you thinking it’s your job to shoulder all my tiredness. An ear to listen is more than enough...And maybe the occasional massage if you’re any good at them.”

“Fine with me.” Lara said, “Now come here. You can actually see the clock from this side of the tub.”

Gammond shifted his way over to her. She drew him close by wrapping her legs around his waist and set to work rubbing his shoulders. Gammond gasped with relief as her hands seemed to have an almost instantaneous effect in relaxing his muscles. Still, they were pulled taut and tensed.

“What have all these meetings been about?” Lara asked.

“Mostly just as a means to soak up all my time with reports and other shit I have the concept of delegation for.” Gammond huffed, “Seriously, I cannot give a shit if the west scouts saw nothing. Then there’s our special orders from my father. This city is one of them. I have to go watch an interrogation of the Oligarchs.”

“We have the Oligarchs?” she muttered.

“Found ‘em trying to flee east.” he said, “Some random person’s doing the interrogation. Can’t even use Lawflers, apparently.”

“Why don’t they just have you do it. You can use Lawflers, can’t you?” asked Lara.

“I can, but apparently I’m only allowed to have experts do any sort of information coercion.” Gammond sighed.

“That’s stupid.”

“It is stupid.” he agreed.

“Why don’t we just go and interrogate them ourselves?”

“Remember what happened last time we did things on our own?” Gammond asked.

“Oh. Yeah.” Lara fell quiet.

“I’ll see if my generals will agree to it.” he said.

“You answer to your generals?” Lara frowned, pressing deeper with her massage, causing Gammond to groan.

“Well...I guess. A little bit.”

“That’s even more stupid.” she muttered, “You’re the commander in chief. This is wartime. You should be able to do whatever in the Abyss you want as long it gets us a victory.”

“That’d just be reckless. We’d have...well, we’d have Atrell’s military system if subordinates had no say in what their superiors did.”

Lara sighed, “But we need to be a little efficient.”

“We’re plenty efficient.” Gammond scoffed, “Watch this: I order you to stop questioning me and move down my back.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I make fun of you for being...tall, I guess.” Gammond said.

Lara burst into laughter, “I can see we have the epitome of military discipline within our ranks.”

Lara’s hands slowed to a stop once she felt Gammond’s muscles relaxed.

“Ooh. That was...really nice.” Gamond sighed, “I’d hate to leave, but…”

“Go.” Lara smiled, waving him off.

They both stepped out of the tub, Gammond toweling himself off far more hastily than Lara before leaving to request a new set of clothes.

Lara dried herself off and, while waiting for her hair to air out, she glanced at the mirror. She’d really grown in muscle mass these past two months. In Atrell she always walked the line between lean and skinny. But now she boasted the most athletic figure she’d ever had. And she looked good.

But her metamorphosis hadn’t just influenced the way she looked. She felt...sturdier. As if her bones were now made of steel. She now carried herself with her chest puffed out. She walked differently.

All these changes hitting her at once made her feel as though lightning was crackling in her chest. A feeling of pride at her own power that the Cruelty stone had once made her feel.

Though this was on a far, far smaller scale.

She still yearned to feel that rock in her hands again. She’d never let herself forget the experience of soaring over the Atrellian forces, unable to be stopped except by ballista bolts meant to topple buildings and walls.

Never would she forget the destruction she could bring with but a breath.

But...this was good for the time being. Seeing the fruits of her freedom was good for her.

Lara had grown accustomed to wearing far more practical clothing during her off time. A tight, dark colored blouse with riding pants and boots were her favorite outfit so far. Though, occasionally she indulged in going through the bother of putting a decorative dress on.

She tied her hair up in a pony tail and left the washroom.

She had her own responsibilities tonight. She had to give a speech to the new citizens of the Consulate in an attempt to instill a false sense of security. This was wartime. Would that actually achieve anything?

It didn’t matter. As a member of the Emryd military, Gammond had ordered her to perform the event. And she would do it happily for him.

Lara strapped on her Roilplate with the help of a few maidservants. Despite being fit to her body exactly, the extra plates and aesthetic pieces made the suit bulky around her shoulders and hips.

She grabbed her helm and carried it with her out into the castle hall. Lara had started painting the visor in her downtime to look like a demon’s face with exaggerated tusks and divots of black paint that ran through the dull gold overlay. She’d never been an artist, but it made the armor more personalized.

“Evening.” Lucia said in her eerily smooth voice as she saddled up next to Lara as they walked, “You’re gonna have to pay me a salary to live with myself after seeing Gammond go into a full sprint while naked.”

“I thought he’d call servants…” Lara snorted.

“None available?” Lucia shrugged, “I have your speech ready.” She handed Lara a folded piece of parchment.

“What’s even the point of all this? Isn’t Tialeis’s festival a month from now?” Lara asked.

“That doesn’t mean you get to slack off in the public relations department. We just think that people will believe you more than the army when we say we’ve got their best interests in mind.” Lucia explained.

“Have we got their best interests in mind?” Lara asked.

“In the long term.” Lucia muttered, “I can’t really classify being besieged as an action of good will.”

Lucia and Lara stepped out of the castle and into a horse-drawn carriage, seating themselves across from each other.

“Has anything gotten better since our little...excursion?” Lara asked.

“If you’re referring to that one time we almost got a promise of surrender, I can’t say I have good news.” Lucia said, “Protests are pretty much regular now. Except they’re all towards the government. We managed to stop your involvement from being leaked. They think it was some hired Tialemancers.”

Lara sighed, “I’m sorry you all have to do so much just to protect me.”

“Mistakes happen.” Lucia shrugged, “And to be fair, you’ve been a rather exemplary super soldier.”

“Super soldier?” Lara asked.

“That’s what you are. Am I wrong? If things go bad, we just chuck you into the fray and suddenly, all our enemies start vanishing.” Lucia said, “You’re like a...human siege weapon. Except much easier to move.”

“Thanks.” Lara chuckled, sarcasm in her voice.

“That was a compliment.” Lucia muttered, “I don’t give very many of those, so be thankful.”

The carriage slowed to a stop.

Lucia frowned, “We can’t be there already. Coachman!”

No response.

Lara’s eyes widened. She leapt forward, grabbing Lucia in a bear hug as several blasts broke through the silence. Metal pellets burst through the carriage and deflected off Lara’s Roilplate fields.

“Could we not spare four men for an escort?” Lara hissed.

“No, we couldn’t!” Lucia hissed back.

Lara and Lucia both flattened themselves on the floor.

Another round of Thunderlance shots fired through the carriage. Lara studied the holes in the wooden hull and wove together an illusion of their bodies before turning the both of them invisible. Hopefully it would be enough to trick the attackers.

Footfalls clomped on the two stairs up to the door before it swung open. A masked man held an empty Thunderlance in his hand. Lara glanced past him and saw about six to seven other men with Thunderlances.

The man turned back to his comrades, “They’re dead.”

“Check for flerical residue.” one of them said.

“Can’t. The Warlock’s wearing Roilplate. Raw crystals right there.”

“Just make sure it isn’t an illusion!” the other man hissed.

Shit. Lara thought.

Through the veil of monochromatic scenery, Lucia mouthed at her, “On my mark.”

Lara furrowed her brow and mouthed back, “Running or fighting?”

“Running.”

Then, a golden ring zipped forward, breaking the invisibility and catching the closest man’s ankle, carrying him out of the carriage and into the sky before dropping him ten feet above the ground.

Lara dropped the Shadowfler and rushed forward, ramming her metal-cased knee into the jaw of one of the assassins. She used his body as a springboard to leap and grab onto the ledge of a short building along the side of the road.

Lucia soared up onto the roof of the building, carried by her rings, locked around the gutters on the roof.

The two women leapt across rooftops away from the assassins, but they didn’t let up. The Ignitors climbed onto the building behind them or rode horses, matching their pace.

Those on the ground fired Thunderlances as though they had an infinite amount of them.

Lara heard a rumble from behind her. She spared a glance back to find three incredible swollen men, influenced by Beastflers, quickly closing the distance between them.

“We have trouble!” Lara shouted.

Lucia glanced at the men, then launched one of her rings across the street to clamp around a post, “Hold tight!” she grabbed Lara around the waist and leapt into the air, drawing them to the roof across the road by her rings.

Lara landed in a roll, springing up into a sprint.

The men with Beastflers-she wasn’t quite sure what they were called aside from the simple Atrellian term of Brute-effortlessly leapt across the road after them. They should have expected that.

“I don’t know if running is going to work out!” Lara shouted.

“You want us to fight them?” Lucia exclaimed.

“We’re the Warlock and an Imryt Field Marshal! A couple of flerfingers won’t be any trouble!”

Lucia grumbled wordlessly before whirling around and sending three rings to knock the Ignitors off their horses.

Lara vanished with a Shadowfler and speared one of the Brutes in the chest with her whip. She yanked it to the side, sending the body crashing into another.

There was one left.

She let him ram into her, rolling over his shoulder and landing behind him. She whirled around, lashing her whip out at the man’s ankle and dragging him to the ground. She leapt onto his swollen back and wrapped the Whip around his throat. She pulled with both hands, strangling the Brute.

Lara pricked her thumb on the Whip’s handle, serrated spikes jabbing into his throat. The hulking body fell limp, giving Lara enough time to take one calm breath before Thunderlance pellets chipped the side of the building she was on.

Two of the Ignitors were still up. One had lost his horse.

Lucia slammed three rings into the Ignitor that was still mounted. Another blast went off and the Auriok cried out, stumbling to the ground.

“Lucia!” Lara gasped. She glared down at the Ignitor responsible.

She lashed out her whip, wrapping the links around his throat and yanking him onto the building’s roof with a giant heave.

Lara pinned the man to the ground, “Who are you bastards?” she growled.

“Just kill me, traitor! Long live the Oligarchy.” he hissed, “I’d rather die than watch Emreth succumb Megysis.”

Lara furrowed her brow, “What are you-”

The man reached a glowing hand up at her, so she granted him his wish. The hand fell limp into a spray of crimson, the orange aura of heat vanishing from his skin.

Lucia groaned from a few yards away, clutching her shoulder which poured rose-gold-colored blood.

“Shit.” Lara muttered as she knelt down next to Lucia, “We need to get you a Preserver.”

“Preservers...can only do so much. The assassin might have reinforcements waiting.” Lucia rasped, “If they come, leave me.”

“What?”

“I said leave me if...if more show up.”

“Lucia, I’m not going to-”

“Shut up with the ‘I’m not going to leave you’. I know. But you’re too important to thi-” Lucia retched, rose gold blood splattering onto the stone roof.

“Lucia!” Lara cried.

“Take the device on my belt.” she groaned, “Fire it into the sky. It’ll signal to send help.”

Lara grabbed a brass device off the auriok that looked like a smaller version of the guns Gammond and her were working on. She wrapped her finger around the trigger and shot it at the dark, star spotted sky. A bright bulb of sparks and light launch up, trailing smoke behind it.

While they waited, Lara helped apply pressure to Lucia’s wounds. But, it seemed to be to little effect.”

“I need...Megyno.” Lucia coughed, “A lot of it. Hurry. Before I go feral.”

“Feral?”

“I won’t...be able to control myself…”

Lara plucked a Megyno crystal off her Roilplate pauldron and handed it to her. Lucia bit down on the crystal, shattering it in her mouth. She swallowed the crystal and sighed in relief.

Lara’s biology lessons started coming back to her. Auriok didn’t eat food. They could, even putting those fangs to use as weapons, but they subsisted themselves on Megyno Energy. Gold could hold an amount of energy they’d need to survive if eaten regularly and it was far less expensive than Megyno Crystals.

But with Lucia’s wounds, she’d be losing Megyno energy fast. That one crystal wasn’t going to be enough.

Lara took the crystal of her other pauldron and fed it to Lucia.

“Hang in there.” Lara whispered.


	24. Chapter 23: Painful Truths

Dregu hit the ground of his cell, blood pooling in his mouth.

“Where is your army located, creature?” the Atrellian dogs demanded.

Dregu stumbled to his feet without aid of his hands, since they were bound behind him in chains.

“Be trampled under hoof, pigs!” Dregu spat in Morgaul.

One of their shamans slammed him against a wall with his powers over the wind.

The door to the dungeon creaked open. The shaman let Dregu drop as he and the soldier turned to the newcomer.

It was the Knight boy. Edmaan Aizli. Or Edmund Isley. Though, the name sounded far better with a Morgaulish accent.

“Sir Knight!” the shaman exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“I have business with our prisoner.” Edmund growled, “Leave us.”

“Yes, sir.” Both dogs responded before trotting off.

Edmund stepped into Dregu’s cell, dragging a wooden chair in with him and taking a seat on it, his posture relaxed, almost sloppy.

“Finally. Someone I respect.” Dregu chuckled, “But don’t think your emotional sorcery will get the best of me just because of that.”

Edmund grinned, “I had no intention of doing such a thing.”

Dregu bellowed with laughter, “You’re a man of many skills, Isley! I’ve never met a competent warrior able to lie so well.”

Edmund frowned, “How do you know if I was lying?”

“We Morgauls are more than just creatures of combat.” Dregu said.

“Whatever. I’m here for answers.” Edmund growled.

“I won’t tell you where the Karo-Kunnar is. Not like I know anyways.” Dregu muttered.

“Why did you kill my sister?” Edmund asked, “Why did your people murder my sister in cold blood? I’m inclined to believe all the Atrellians say about you being savages, but I’ve had enough proof to know you aren’t. So tell me why.”

“Tell me, do you know why our kind has plagued the edges of your settlements for so long?” Dregu asked.

“Can’t say that I do.” Edmund muttered, “Though I know your kind were once slaves to the Ansami people.”

“Yes. They worked us to death in the caverns below with their titanic machinery feeding off the mystical energies of Megyno.” Dregu growled, “Thing is, once we escaped our chains, we found that we had been ruined beyond salvation. Megyno energy is dangerous, Edmund Isley. Our entire species had our very blood and seed destroyed by it.”

“What do you mean?” Edmund asked.

“The more a Morgaul procreates with another Morgaul, the more deformed and deficient their child is.” Dregu explained grimly, “We must mate with other peoples. Whatever disease that afflicts us then attacks the non-Morgaul half and leaves the child a full Morgaul.”

“So you run around to small villages looking for people to rape?” Edmund snarled, “What did you do to Kaitlyn?”

“Nothing of the sort to her. But, if we didn’t do it at all, we would barely be able to remember the last twenty four hours. Most would have less than four limbs. Others would grow extra.” Dregu growled, “We have no choice.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” Edmund said.

“We didn’t have a choice until now. I am the first of many of my brothers and sisters who have been created from seed without the Affliction.” Dregu said, “I am smaller because my body did not grow so large it killed itself.”

Edmund’s brow furrowed, “How did you cure it?”

“We didn’t. A man known to us as the Physician found a way to grow children without a pregnancy.”

“Who’s the Physician?” Edmund asked.

“A man older than most, though he looks young. He’s the one who ordered the death of your sister. As his thrall, I had no choice but to obey. Since he cured us, he’s been worshipped on par with Idros, the Morgaul God.”

“How is that possible? And why are you telling me all this?”

“In part to answer your question. Your sister’s true killer was the man who spoke the words. But mainly, I ask for your help, Isley.” Dregu said.

“Help? From me? Do you know what position you’re in?” Edmund asked.

“Yes. We’re two of a kind.” Dregu answered, “You want to free your people from tyranny. I wish the same for mine.”

Edmund exhaled a quiet, uncomfortable breath.

“The Physician...while he fixed my kind’s blood, he holds that fact over our heads like a sword. My people obey only him and those who have been fixed on his behalf.” the Morgaul said, “But he treats us like slaves. Just like the Ansami.”

“And you want me to help you kill this Physician guy?”

Dregu nodded.

“What do I get in return?”

“The same.” Dregu said, “My horde will come for me eventually. The Karo-Kunnar will be able to bring the walls down. Assuming you can organize an uprising on the inside. I can tell my men not to touch any who chose to follow you.”

“I don’t need to start a damn revolution, Morgaul.” Edmund said.

“Don’t you? I hear many things, Isley. And I hear your attempts at the most peaceful of aid are criminalized by the aristocrats that control you.” Dregu said, “You are not a man in their eyes, Isley, you’re a weapon. A tool to point at the enemy. They will tighten their leash of authority, lock a collar of dogma around your neck, chain you up in any way they can to maintain control of your power. Because that’s what Atrell does to extraordinary people.”

Edmund broke eye contact with Dregu. He knew Dregu was right.

“I...I can’t trust you anymore than I can the aristocrats.” Edmund said.

“I am your captive.” Dregu stated, “Use that as you wish. Threaten me directly and my men won’t move a muscle.”

“I’ll...I’ll need to think about something like that.” Edmund said, “I’ll get back to you with an answer.”

“Do it soon. If the Karo-Kunnar returned to the Origin lands to heal, they’ll be on their way already.”

___________________________________________________________________

“He wants you to what?” Camilla hissed. She pushed herself off of Edmund a little. Both of them were lying in Camilla’s bed, snacking on a platter of meats and cheeses.

“Start an uprising.” Edmund said, “He promised that making everything easier for the Karo-Kunnar would dismantle the aristocracy.”

“I thought your original plan was to help reform efforts. And until then, just do charity work.” Camilla said.

“I know, but...It all just seems like a dead end.” Edmund muttered, “Everything I do, even the small stuff is somehow criminalized. Remember when I gave my food to that Snake and he was almost executed for it?”

Camilla nodded, “But that’s why we have to play the long game, dear.”

A wave of warmth flushed over him just like any other time Camilla called him something affectionate.

“We need to make alliances, bring the aristocracy to our side, not to the ground.” Camilla said, “That would result in the deaths of hundreds. Even thousands. Remember that the flerfingers all have the Nobles’ backs. Without God Shards from them, the flerfingers have no power. Same as you. They could deprive us of Megyno energy all together.”

Edmund sighed, “You’re right. But I still can’t help wondering if this will lead anywhere if we approach it politically.”

“That’s just what I think is best. Though if you really, really think that violence is necessary, I’ll have your back.” Camilla said.

Edmund smiled and embraced her, “Have I ever told you you’re the best person in the world?”

“Many times, though the novelty never wears off.” Camilla grinned, pecking him on the lips, “What other juicy bits of information did you learn from our Morgaul friend?”

“Well, apparently Megyno energy can really wreck your body and the blood of your descendants if exposed to it too often.” Edmund said, “And something weird about...creating children? Or rather, ‘growing’ them. Without any pregnancy.”

Camilla frowned, “Now that’s odd.”

“Right?” Edmund chuckled.

“What even stranger is that I think I’ve heard of this before.” Camilla said.

“How?” asked Edmund.

“Unlike so many Noble born children at the academy, I actually have a vested interest in my major.” Camilla grinned, “Pre-Collapse magic requires that I dabble a little in Pre-Collapse technology.”

“So this Physician guy has access to technology from before the Titans’ War?”

“It seems so. Though what’s more important than that is the fact that the only place I ever heard about it was in Elius’s personal archive. He never-and I mean never-lets anyone read those texts.” Camilla said.

“How’d you get a hold of them?”

Camilla scoffed, “What do you think?”

“You stole them?” Edmund deadpanned.

“Well, I returned them too. So borrowed.” she said, “We should go investigate further.”

“Are you crazy? I think I already pissed him off pretty bad during the...trial? Meeting? I don’t know what it was, but Elius attacked me immediately after.” Edmund said, “I mean, he claimed it was for a lesson, but still…”

“Well then there really isn’t much you can do to make it worse.” Camilla shrugged, “Come on, I’ve broken into the archive a dozen times.”

Edmund sighed, “I...fine. But if we get caught…”

“I know, I know. It’s my fault.” she rolled her eyes.

Both thieves wrapped themselves in black clothes and scarves to cover their faces before they left for the archive. Edmund dulled the patrolling guards’ vigilance with a Lawfler, allowing them to pass by rather easily. Though, their confidence in the security of the keep contributed to most of their negligence. That security might not last much longer.

Edmund and Camilla entered the library. A quick scan of the place ensured it was empty of any surprises.

Camilla drew a lockpick from her sleeve and knelt next to a heavily locked door while Edmund stood guard. It’d be a lot easier if they could just freeze the locks, but that would send Elius on a rampage.

With a click, the door’s hinges creaked.

Edmund turned to a now open door, Camilla already inside. He followed, closing the door behind him.

Camilla lit a torch in the smaller room. The archive was made up of a single desk along with several scroll racks, stacks of clay tablets and bookshelves.

“Delacroix...Delacroix...there we go.” Camilla muttered to herself. She pulled a large ancient tome off one of the bookshelves. The pages were yellowed and stale, the ink on the pages muted, “This book details a rather unknown theory about the Champions and their legends. I recall the chapter on the Titans being where I heard of this sort of machinery.”

“What’s it say?” Edmund asked.

“‘The Titans, in many iterations of the Titans’ War, specifically Doctor Gregor Franqesi’s extremely popular _Machinokraag_ , the Titans make movements during the war with some kind of army called the Titanspawn. These creatures are often described as demons or monsters, though many scholars theorize that the Titanspawn were actually a form of biomechanical creature given what remains we’ve dug up. When put in the lense of sciences, the Abyss’s tar pits are likely an allegory for a form of machine used to artificially manufacture these creatures, which would explain the many reports of their overwhelming numbers.’” Camilla read.

“Seems a bit far fetched.” Edmund muttered.

“We know that they had some element of machinery to them, given that all the remains modern archeologists dig up are skeletons made of metal.” Camilla said, “Because it's only a skeleton, we know there was natural tissue capable of rotting outside.”

“What about...blood or the seed or whatever Dregu was talking about?” Edmund asked.

“Nothing of a sort is in this book.” She closed the book and replaced it on the shelf.

“Have you taken a look at anything older than that book? Does the archive have anything Pre-Collapse?”

“Perhaps…” Camilla looked through the stacks of clay tablets and scroll racks, “Here’s something.” She drew a small black card from the inside of the scroll rack, “Huh. Why would this be hidden?”

Edmund shrugged, “What is it?”

“An ancient Ansami file. They used to store their information differently than we do.” Camilla said, “It says Vancen’s theory of Eugenics on it.”

“What are Eugenics?”

Camilla shook her head, “It has something to do with peoples’ natural state of being. Their blood. Other than that, I don’t know. The issue is that I have no idea how to read it.”

“Remember that day we found my sister in the ruins?” Edmund asked, “Pasco and I came across a laboratory of sorts with a bunch of ancient machinery. Maybe something down there will work.”

Camilla cursed, “No doubt an official recovery has been started by now.”

“Maybe they haven’t gone that deep yet.” Edmund said, “Remember the skeleton?”

Camilla slowly nodded, “Perhaps you’re right…”

“We should go now. Neither of us have anything to do tomorrow. And we may not get another chance.” Edmund said.

“Alright. Let’s go.” Camilla nodded.

The pair of thieves erased traces of their presence in the archive, save for taking the card with them. Edmund used a Lawfler to coerce the stablemaster to hand over a pair of mares while Camilla used a Shadowfler to sneak them out.

It was only a two hour ride to the Ansami ruin.

Camilla was right about a dig having started. The giant entrance in the ground was stuck open, providing only shoddily constructed wooden lifts to get in and out of the place.

The archeologists and scientists studying the site were asleep in their tents.

The metal corridors had been lit by oil lamps.

“We’re going to have to climb down without someone to operate the lift.” Camilla whispered. She walked over to a rack full of supplies and grabbed a lengthy coil of rope. Lucky for them, one of the few trees that existed on the steppe was nearby.

She tied the rope around the tree in a basic square knot and tugged on it. Though on the third tug, her knot came loose.

“Here.” Edmund took the rope and tied a practiced trace-eight knot.

“Impressive.” Camilla mused.

“A stone jungle’s a lot harder to traverse than a forested one.” Edmund sighed, wrapping the rope around his hand. He stepped off the sheer ledge of the entrance and wrapped his legs around the rope.

Slowly, he worked his way down the Abyssal drop, followed by Camilla.

Frankly, the site had been expanded into a far smaller space than Edmund had thought. They only made it a little ways down each corridor.

Edmund led Camilla to the laboratory.

“Master Knight.” Nuth’gu hissed from the shadows of the room.

Edmund jumped in fright, but quickly calmed himself.

“Why have you returned?” The skeleton asked.

“We need to read a file.” Camilla spoke on his behalf.

“The thief.” Nuth’gu spat.

“Damn right, I’m the Thief.” Camilla growled, “Now leave us.”

Nuth’gu sighed, “As you wish. Master Knight, excuse me if I am being bold, but I have given your dear sister a proper burial.”

Edmund nodded, “Oh, er...thank you.”

The azure skeleton then left the laboratory.

Edmund stepped over to the abandoned counter. He grabbed a tablet-shaped device from the abundance of old tech.

“I think I recognize that thing.” Camilla said, “Give it here.”

Edmund handed the tablet to her and she observed the side.

Camilla drew the black card from a pocket and inserted it into the edge.

Blue light filled the frame, displaying an interface unlike anything Edmund had seen before. Suddenly, a male voice started talking in a language Edmund at first thought was Atrellian, but quickly turned out to be something different.

“What’s it saying?” Edmund asked.

Camilla hissed “Shit. Ansami. Er…his name is Vancen. He’s a High Councilman from Ansam, the capital city.” Camilla then started quoting the voice word for word, “‘I make this catalog as a means of sharing my research in case something happens to me. Premise one: the microscopic world of the human body.

‘It’s long been assumed that ailments of the body have been caused by Roilborn, evil spirits and other superstitious nonsense. However with the advent of Marsikl’s theory of evolution, which still has yet to be accepted by the wider masses, a new world of science has been opened to us. Through my research and invention of the inverse astronomical glass, I have discovered that all animals of living flesh are inhabited by tiny beasts. Some of these tiny beasts exist for the sole purpose of invading the body similar to an army. I propose that this sort of attack causes most illnesses we see.

‘Additionally, the body itself is made up of tiny living organisms stacked together like bricks. Each of these creatures or ‘cells’ has a specific function within the body. Which brings me to Premise two: genetics. Each cell has an average observed lifetime of approximately twenty minutes. However, deterioration of the body is stopped by a duplication method which makes a copy of the cell, able to replace it when it dies. This duplication process is run by a strand of chemical compounds within the cell that form genes. Genes, as far as we understand them, are much like instructions within each cell to develop certain aspects when born. These genes are a more detailed and researched version of Doctor Marsikl’s Essential Attributes.

‘Premise three: human reproduction. All animals, including humans, procreate by way of sexual intercourse, however, the incubation of a child includes many similar aspects to cell duplication. We analyzed the male seed and menstrual waste of several sentient species and found that all had discarded cells with only half the genes of a regular cell of that species. My theory is that the genes within each cell combine within the female’s womb into a singular cell and multiply from there.

‘Finally comes my theory. I believe it is within the power of human beings to modify the human genome, phasing out certain traits in a process of artificially accelerated evolution. With sophisticated tools, it would be possible to alter or even create specific genes to relay certain traits to an artificially created being. In fact, I have already tried it to great success. I’ve managed to engineer a race of creatures that can replace the low class reactor workers, since their genomes are far more resistant to Megyno radiation. They’ve taken to calling themselves Morgauls. It is my hope...that I can do the same with human beings.’”

The recording shut off a few seconds before Camilla finished.

“This man...created the Morgauls?” Edmund muttered.

“Why would Elius have something like this? Why would he keep it a secret?” Camilla said, “Do you think he’s tried something like this before?”

“I...I don’t know.”

__________________________________________________________

“You’ve neglected to bring alcohol, so frankly, I don’t feel obligated to listen to what you have to say.” Pasco muttered sarcastically.

“The point of this meeting is not about alcohol, Pasco.” Edmund sighed.

Djarig, Taue, Faroiv and Pasco all sat around a small fire within the camp.

“Edmund, I didn’t get to tell you during our last gathering, but do you know who your new lady friend is?” Faroiv asked.

“What?” Edmund frowned, “Yes.”

“So you know about the rumors?” The Pious soldier said.

“I haven’t heard of any rumors.” Edmund said, “And they have a tendency to be fabricated.”

“I still think you should know...many have heard her in her room speaking with men at night.”

“Uh, yeah. Me.” Edmund said.

“But are you with her every night?” Faroiv asked.

“We don’t have time for this.” Edmund muttered, “I know you’re only trying to look out for me, but we have bigger problems.

“Right. Sorry.” Faroiv muttered.

“A few days ago, I learned some things from the Morgaul prisoner we have.” Edmund said, “He claimed his people are being controlled by a human man called the Physician. He also said that the Karo-Kunnar will return to Fort Killigrew in an attempt to get him back. If we help kill the Physician and let the Karo-Kunnar take back their leader, they promise to help us overthrow General Thorne and his bureaucrats.”

“The obvious answer is to ignore him,” Faroiv said, “He’s just going to stab us in the back.”

“Would a violent revolution really do anything to Thorne?” Djarig asked, “I’d think it would just kill more of us.”

“That’s what I was thinking…” Edmund muttered.

“But if we fight them peacefully, Snakes and Pious still die.” Taue said, “Whether or not we help the Karo-Kunnar, there will be deaths.”

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering this.” Faroiv sighed, “If we rebel, we’ll never be able to return to the homeland.”

“Yes we will. How will they enforce their laws? Half of Enforcement is out here on the front lines. And with the forces at Emreth defeated, they have almost no troops.” Pasco said, “We are the military. What we say goes.”

“What about all the flerfingers?” Djarig asked, “They will still be loyal to the Nobility.”

“Remember that device the Karo-Kunmar used to nullify fler casting? Maybe they have another one.” Taue said.

“This is all assuming they won’t double cross us.” Faroiv growled.

“If they do, we can hold the prisoner hostage.” Edmund said, “He gave permission to me himself.”

The other four men went silent.

“Then maybe...maybe we can pull this thing off.” Djarig murmured.

“What?” Faroiv exclaimed, “this is going to get us all killed!”

“Everyone in favor?” Edmund asked. Pasco and Taue raised their hands, “All opposed?”

Djarig and Faroiv raised theirs.

“Which leaves me as the tie breaker.” Edmund muttered.

Could he afford to take that risk? What would the losses look like? It sounded too good to be true. Too easy. Would they get the change they desired just like that? Was peace still an option?

There was always a chance the Karo-Kunnar wouldn’t show. And if that happened, the Pious and the Snakes would be massacred. They had to try for a peaceful option. Their backs weren’t against the wall yet.

“We have to try and avoid as many deaths as possible.” Edmund said, “I won’t allow them to feed the Snakes to the slaughter, but we can’t just resort to violence whenever we want.”

“So you’re not taking their help?” Pasco asked.

“Only if we truly have no other choice.” Edmund sighed.

“So what’s our next move then?” Faroiv asked.

“The Karo-Kunnar might already be on their way.” Edmund said, “We need to organize quickly. I’ll let the General know about the attack, but only if he agrees to let the Snakes be real soldiers and puts an end to the caste discriminations on the battlefield.

“What about us?” Djarig asked.

“I need a protest to start. A peaceful one. I feel like that will make Thorne more inclined to listen to me.” Edmund said, “Gather everyone you can outside the keep.”

“It will take time.” Djarig said.

“How’s three days?” Edmund asked.

The Janiri man nodded, “I can work with that.”

“Good. This meeting is adjourned.” Edmund said, standing from his seat, “I’ll see you all soon.”

After the meeting, Edmund completed his daily flerical practice on the empty drill grounds until the sun set.

He returned to the keep tired and drained.

As he walked through the halls of the third floor towards his quarters, he passed Camilla’s room. Light came from the bottom of her door. She was still awake.

Edmund wanted to at least tell her goodnight. He approached the door, ready to knock.

“...what Dregu told the boy.” A man’s voice came from her room.

Edmund flattened himself to the wall.

“He didn’t seem very convinced when he reported it to me.” Camilla’s voice said, hushed.

“Make sure it stays that way.” The voice said, “Once Fort Killigrew falls, the Atrellians will be pushed back to Janir and we can reconquer Emreth for the Monarchy.”

“How? Isn’t Junia with the Imryt Confederates now? I heard the Oligarchy was defeated. We’d need a figurehead. And with the Queen dead…” Camilla muttered.

“You will be proclaimed monarch and rule in my stead. Once you return what’s rightfully mine to me…”

“You don’t even need the Kynareth. You have the Broker Stone.” Camilla said.

“But you stole from me, girl. Your usefulness is all that’s keeping your neck from a chopping block.” The voice growled.

“I don’t why the hell I even bother with you.” Camilla huffed.

“Because you’d die if you didn’t.”

“I dare you to try, bastard.” She growled.

“What? Do you think your Knight will save you? Ha! You’re a deceitful, treacherous girl, Camilla. He will leave you the moment he’s seen your skeletons.”

“Shut up.” Camilla murmured.

“Be realistic. He’s the fucking Knight. He knows he can do better. Maybe a princess with an ounce of loyalty would be more his style.”

“Shut up!” Camilla snapped.

The voice chuckled maliciously, “Just make sure he stays complacent.”

“Damn you.” She hissed, a bit of trembling in her voice, “You ass! Damn you, father.”

Father? Edmund had always assumed she was an orphan like him. Or at least, that she’d have lost all contact with her parents.

No one responded to her.

Edmund heard something crash. He slowly stepped in front of the door and knocked.

“What?” She asked, sounding half irritated, half defeated.

“Camilla?” Edmund asked.

“Oh. Edmund, come in.” Camilla muttered.

Edmund let himself into her quarters. She was the only one in there. The shards of a shattered pot were scattered across the floors of her bedroom.

“Are you alright?” Edmund asked.

“Um...yes. I am now.” Camilla wiped a sleeve across her face. Was she crying?

“Camilla, I heard you talking to that person...your father.”

Camilla’s expression became horrified, “What did you hear?”

“Who is your father? Why was he talking about the Emryd monar…Camilla. Are you…”

“What? Am I what?” Camilla asked.

He glanced away then back to her several times before finding the resolve to finish his sentence.

“Are you a spy?” Edmund asked hesitantly. He hated that he even thought of the question. He immediately regretted saying it aloud, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why-“

“Yes,” Camilla muttered.

“What?” Edmund gasped.

“I’m an Emryd spy…” Camilla couldn’t look him in the eye.

Edmund let out a quaking breath, nearly losing his balance, “No.” He whispered, “Not you too.”

“I can explain.” Camilla said.

Edmund just shook his head. He didn’t know what else to do aside from run.

“Edmund, wait!” Camilla’s voice was lost to the distance.

He ran out of the keep and sprinted out of the camp, despite his exhaustion. As he ran, he opened a tin of Godshards and swallowed every single one.

Power surged through him, a Lawfler channeling through his legs and bursting from his feet. Each step became a leap of fifty feet. Winds sliced at his skin. But it wasn’t fast enough to escape.

Edmund drew a small bead of Megyno crystal from his robes. One of the pieces he salvaged from being a Snake. No bigger than half an inch, he swallowed the bead. The raw Megyno energy ran through him, chilling his blood.

Edmund roared as his leaps became bounds of immeasurable speed and the desert sands became a blur of motion.

Until he tripped. Edmund slammed into the ground, sliding hundreds of feet, stirring up clouds of dust and dirt in his wake.

He slowed to a stop on his side, his limbs limp either from a lack of will to move them or exhaustion.

He was in the grasslands now. Alone. Just like always. Now there was nothing to divert him from his reality. Nothing to draw him away from his fate with false hopes.


	25. Chapter 24: The Titan's Sanctum

A squadron of soldiers, along with a Preserver, were able to make it in time. Still, Lucia was hospitalized, in critical condition. The auriok still had pellets in her flesh that the Preserver couldn’t get out and left it to be done by a surgeon.

But while relieved, Lara wasn’t satisfied.

The Warlock entered the dungeon of the castle, announcing her entrance with the slam of a door.

All eyes turned to her. Gammond, an Oligarch bound to a chair and a man in a COnsulate soldier’s uniform.

“Lara?” Gammond asked, “Did you finish your speech.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Lara asked, “Assassins were sent after Lucia and I. She’s in the hospital.”

“Gods and titans…” Gammond gasped, “Are you alright?”

Lara nodded, “I’m fine. But the assassins were loyalists to the Oligarchy. And they mentioned Megysis.” Lara stared directly at the bound Oligarch. His reaction was all she needed. There was no mistaking the connection she’d made.

Gammond followed her glare, then back to her, “We’re working on it.”

“We almost died tonight, Gam.” Lara said, “I’m going to get the answers I want.” Lara’s glare at Gammond was kinder, yet still a glare. It didn’t help that her Nordanian blood let her almost tower over him when she wished to be imposing.

Gammond sighed, “Go ask the Intelligence Agent. Not my call.”

Lara walked up to the uniformed man. He bore an imperious look across his face that only came with hegemonic authority.

“My name is Lara Shawe. I’m the Warlock. I’d like to speak with this man.” Lara said calmly.

“I’m aware, Miss Shawe. But perhaps you should leave this matter to the experts and those with proper jurisdiction.” the agent held out his hand, “Agent Frankosil. I operate under the direct order of the Consul of Foreign Affairs.”

“Well, Agent Frankosil,” Lara growled, “That wasn’t a request. That was a notification.”

“Your intimidation won’t work on me, Warlock.” the agent grinned smugly.

“Let me interrogate the Oligarchs and I won’t have to resort to intimidation.” Lara drew close to Frankosil, her glare hardened.

“You have no authority here, woman.” the agent growled.

“I have as much authority here as the amount you value your life.” Lara muttered.

Frankosil glanced away. She broke him.

“Be quick about it.” He grumbled, before walking away from her.

Lara’s eyes drew to the obese man tied to a wooden chair. His once pristine robes of red, purple and gold were dirtied. He had a full face of brown hair and bushy eyebrows. He looked a lot like...Spetyll.

Lara hesitated for a second before drawing in a breath to speak. Why the hesitation? Spetyll was dead. No, he was erased.

“He won’t talk.” Frankosil muttered from the background, “What makes you think you can coerce answers out of him?”

“Did you send those loyalist assassins after us?” Lara asked, ignoring the agent.

“What assassins?” the Oligarch scrunched up his nose incredulously.

“The Ignitors and Brutes you sent after my carriage.”

The Oligarch scoffed, “You think I could order your death from here.”

“I’d never be so foolish as to assume something like that of an enemy.” Lara said, “Did you send them or not.”

“No. I haven’t the faintest clue what assassins you’re talking about.” the Oligarch spat.

Lara uncoiled her whip.

“Lara-” Gammond started.

“I won’t kill him.” Lara said.

She gently tossed out the whip, wrapping it loosely around his ankle. She pricked her finger, the spikes jutting out of each bone.

“How about now?”

“My answer stands, traitor.” growled the Oligarch.

Lara yanked on the Whip, mutilating his ankle. The old man screamed.

“Anything else you wanna add? Who knows, it might be worth a finger!” Lara roared.

“I don’t lead the espionage forces, you bitch!” the Oligarch cried, “Titans!”

“So one of you did. Which means that person knows of Megysis. Tell me, good sir, do you know what Megysis is?”

“A p-plague.” the Oligarch stuttered, “One that would bring Emreth to his knees. That’s what he told us.”

“Who’s he?” Lara asked.

“I...I can’t say.”

“I encourage you to try.” Lara muttered, wrapping her Whip around the other leg.

“Nothing you can do will make me reveal that to you.” he growled.

“Yeah?” Lara wrapped the Whip around his throat.

“Lara, you said you wouldn’t!” Gammond exclaimed.

“I know, Gam.” Lara gritted her teeth.

“And even if you could, that still wouldn’t be enough.” the Oligarch said.

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“You think death is the only way to threaten someone?” he asked, “If I gave him away, he would destroy everything. The whole city. In a single swoop.”

Lara blinked, “Would he do that...with a Dying Star?”

The Oligarch froze before he shook his head half-heartedly. It was a lie.

“So you are connected to Caze.” Lara murmured.

The Oligarch’s eyes widened.

“Tell me about that.” Lara said.

“No. I can’t say anything else. If Emreth’s fate hasn’t already been sealed, I can’t risk anything else.” he said adamantly.

“Tell me and we can stop him.” Lara insisted.

“No, you can’t. No one can. Not man or Roilborn.” said the Oligarch.

“Tell me why.”

“He’s too powerful. He can’t be killed. Even if you could defeat him, what he’s doing is far beyond our understanding. No one living today save for him could dismantle it.” he explained, the look of dread ever growing deeper across his face, “That, and he wields nine God Stones.”

Lara jerked up, “...Nine God Stones?”

He nodded.

“Why does he have nine of the ten God Stones?” Lara asked.

“No. That’s the line.” he said.

“Tell me, damnit! You’ve already revealed enough to doom yourself. I can stop him if I just have the information!” Lara exclaimed.

“No, you can’t!”

Lara sighed, teeth grinding against each other, “I’m really starting to grow tired of hearing that.”

Lara took a bottle of violet liquid off her person and downed the syrupy stimulus.

“Lara, what are you doing?” Gammond asked.

“Nothing. My flerish lets me enter people’s minds. I won’t damage anything.” Lara said.

“Have you had enough practice with it to do that?”

“Yes,” Lara lied, “Now calm down.”

As soon as she cast her flerish, she felt it. The ichorous presence in her mind, eating away at her defenses. Someone else was in her head.

Lara stumbled backwards, eyes wide as she attacked the presence.

“Lara!” Gammond explained.

Lara destroyed the intruder’s power and shunted it out of her mind as Gammond moved to help her up. She looked at her lover.

“You have it too.” She gasped, “Someone’s in your head!”

“What?” Gammond frowned.

Lara clamped her fingertips around Gammond’s mind and delved inside. Gammond’s mind was an explosion of activity and vitality, but she could pick out a foreign presence aside from herself. She tore it out and destroyed it.

Gammond staggered backwards, clutching his head, looking at her for a brief moment with accusatory eyes.

“Someone burrowed into your head. I got rid of them.” Lara assured him.

“Oh. I...alright. Thank you.” Gammond breathlessly nodded.

Lara turned her attention to the Oligarch, delving into his head. The same presence was there. Only more powerful. If she had to put it into more understandable terms, in her head and Gammond’s the presence was like a fungal spore that had wandered its way there. In the Oligarch’s mind, it was like a tree from a sapling that was intentionally planted there.

Lara tip-toed around the foreign presence, trying to dig up all the knowledge he had on Caze.

But the presence didn’t simply sit there. It attacked. Lara clutched her temples as the presence, cold and inhuman in its touch, assaulted her consciousness in his mind.

Lara fought back, using her flerish to break her word and beat the presence back. She zeroed in on the source and attacked that.

But no damage came to the source without damage to the Oligarch’s own mind. So as she fought, she dug as fast as she could. Either she got it and damaged him or got nothing to preserve him.

But the presence wouldn’t let up. This wasn’t its mind. She couldn’t scare it away. But if she left even a sliver of it, it could try to invade their minds again.

So Lara shattered his mind as she exited with the knowledge she needed.

In the material world, the Oligarch suddenly fell slack as Lara regained her awareness.

“What’d you do?” Gammond asked, “You said you wouldn’t kill him!”

“Circumstances changed, Gam.” Lara said, “I got everything I could on Caze. But there was a presence in his mind that started invading ours.”

“Presence? What presence?” he asked, “The only presence I felt was yours.”

“I think Caze may have planted something like the mental version of a parasite in the Oligarchs’ minds.” Lara said, “Like a plant that gives off spores to infect other people.”

“What for?”

“To monitor our thoughts? Control our actions? Whatever it was, it was bad.”

Gammond sighed, hesitating to respond, “I...I trust you. I’ll try to explain this away. What’d you find out?”

“You fools!” Frankosil exclaimed from the background, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I ought to report you to the Consul of your treachery!”

“Silence!” Gammond roared, before quieting, “Lara got us the information. You will not speak of this to the Consul lest you want her to slice your throat open, understand?”

Frankosil huffed and left the dungeon.

“What did you find?” he turned to her.

“As Caze ran, he specifically turned power over certain parts of the military to certain people.” Lara explained, “Like the Oligarchs and the other kings. Kilmar only had vague notions, but Caze is building something. Likely a device from the Ansami Empire.”

“Dying Stars?” Gammond asked.

“I doubt it. According to one memory only one Dying Star could be created at a time unless we could replicate the God Stones.” Lara said, “I think he’s dreaming bigger. If he wanted to make Dying Stars, he shouldn’t have run away with the Cruelty Stone.”

“Anything more concrete?” he asked.

“Caze is immortal. In one memory, the Oligarch’s men stabbed him with four spears at once. He didn’t even flinch.” Lara said.

“I’ll report what we found to the Consuls.” Gammond said, “We should do some research further into the God Stones and what Caze would want them for. There’s a library somewhere here.”

“I’ll go check.” Lara said, “And Gam?”

“Yes?”

Lara planted a kiss on his cheek, “I know I was out of line tonight. Thank you for putting up with me.”

“Well, my job may be hard, but I don't know what I’d do without you being with me all this way. So look at it as a transaction rather than the kindness of my heart.” Gammond smiled.

“You know what I keep saying, Gam.” She took him by the hands, drawing close to him, “You are kind. Be proud of that.”

Gammond responded by kissing her on the lips. He broke away soon after, “I have to go now.”

Lara nodded, watching as Gammond walked off from the dungeon.

Then an uncomfortable thought struck her.

 _I don’t deserve him, do I?_  
_____________________________________________________________________

“You’re certain this is the place?” Lara asked as she and Gammond approached the little cave on horseback.

Before going after the Kingdom of Emreth, the two of them still had to investigate the locations listed by Gammond’s father.

“This is the only ‘Cave of the Dead’ on the Emryd map.” Gammond muttered, muffled through his helmet, “So, yeah. I’m pretty sure this is it.”

The cave entrance was an innocuous little hole in the side of a steep hill. They seemed a Nin a dozen, especially in the rockier parts of the Emryd Peninsula. Gammond and Lara dismounted their horses, their escorts waiting outside as they approached the cave and slipped inside.

The cave opened up into a small area covered in stalactites and dripping water.

“There’s nothing manmade in here.” Lara sighed.

“Let’s not be so hasty. It’s too dark to call anything.” Gammond attached a small metal disc to the socket which held a Megyno crystal for his Roilplate and twisted it on. A beam of light was directed from the stone out towards the cave wall.

“Just how many extra gadgets does your armor have?” Lara scoffed.

“Theoretically, enough to make you jealous.” Gammond said absentmindedly as he scanned the walls with his light, “But I made one for you as well.”

Gammond tossed her a small disc. Lara twisted it onto her right hand’s power source, creating a similar light.

She walked slowly around the edge of the room, shifting her light about the surface.

Her light illuminated a myriad of moss patches, fungi, pebbles, rocks and breaks in the wall. She paused at a particularly large crack. She swore something reflected from inside it.

“I think I’ve got something.” She muttered, stepping over to the large crack.

Gammond twisted around, watching as she took off her glove and gauntlet to squeeze her bare fingers into the crack.

“Careful you don’t get stuck.” Gammond said quietly.

Lara didn’t respond, laser focused on reaching whatever was reflecting light back at her from there.

She nearly got a firm grip on the thing, she thought, before the wall exploded in a cloud of dust and shards of rock came careening down.

A few bits of debris bounced off her Roilplate’s field.

“You alright?” Gammond asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine!” Lara coughed, “What in the Abyss?”

As the dust settled, Lara gazed upon a two foot wide hexagon of metal laid into the wall.

Gammond got closer and observed it, “What is that?”

“How would I know?”Lara asked.

Gammond frowned and placed his hand on the metallic hexagon and pushed. Nothing happened.

“I should’ve expected it to not just be a button.” Gammond muttered. But as he pulled his hand away, six colored lights glowed, each at the tip of a vertex on the hexagon. He froze his hand before returning and pressing his finger on one of the vertices. The hexagon clicked.

“It’s...a code perhaps?” Lara wondered aloud.

Gammond pressed the other lights, the hexagon clicking five more times before it suddenly flashed red.

“I assume that means we were denied access.” Gammond said.

“I think you have to press them in a certain order.” Lara said. The lights were each glowing green, red, blue, violet, gold and white. Five of those were the same colors as the flerical Wells. The other was an outlier, though.

Lara pressed them in order of the ancient diagram that all scientists used when depicting the Wells and flers. Gold for Commural, blue for Kogniirok, red for Impetellas and Green for Sylvanor. She then hit violet for Glorekja and the white one.

The hexagon flashed red again.

“I thought the Diagram would work.” Lara sighed.

“That’s because you left Glorekja out. It’s the third Well, not the fifth.” Gammond said, pressing them in that same order, but pressing the violet light after the blue light. He pressed the white light last.

It didn’t flash red.

“Does that mean…” Lara started, “It couldn’t have been that easy…”

The cave rumbled. It shook so strongly Lara would’ve thought it was an earthquake if the cave floor didn’t start to split open.

It parted down the diameter and slowly started to retract, revealing a deep, dark chasm below. A metallic staircase spiraled down along the edges.

Lara looked at Gammond, who looked back at her.

“I suppose we have no other choice than to descend.” Lara said.

“Agreed.”

The two of them, light held out in front of them, made their way down the stairs. The chasm was absurdly tall. If one of them had fallen from the top, Lara surmised their body would shatter whether or not they were wearing Roilplate.

They stepped onto the smooth stone floor at the bottom of the staircase after nearly ten minutes of walking down stairs. They walked down the single hallway that branched off the staircase, scanning their surroundings with their lights.

The walls were smooth and clean to an uncanny degree. One would think that moos or fungi or something would grow through a crack, but there was nothing.

Gammond pointed ahead, “There’s a light through there.”

Lara squinted in her helmet and saw the faint blue aura of a dim light coming through from the end of the tunnel.

They hurried towards the light and came out of the tunnel into a massive chasm. It must’ve been hundreds of feet deep. A long stone bridge connected the tunnel to the elaborate building carved into the rock on the other side. The architecture was unlike anything Lara had ever seen.

The building was made with sharp edges, short slants and rows of depth variance. Nothing round had been implemented into the building’s design, making the overall shape more like a giant trapezoid.

“Gods and Titans…” Gammond whispered as he took off his helmet and shut off his light.

Lara shut hers off as well, “This...this doesn’t look Ansami.”

“It’s not.” Gammond said, “It’s Imryt, the original creators of our capital. They were an Empire before the Ansami established themselves.”

“How many thousands of years old is this?” Lara asked.

“Two at least.” he muttered. He placed a hesitant foot on the stone bridge. It seemed to still be sturdy.

Gammond made his way across the bridge, followed later by Lara. Together, they made their way into the building.

The chamber within was massive, seeming to be a mixup of a living space, laboratory, library and armory all at the same time. The layout was distinctly Ansami, the way the counters and laboratory bits were organized.

“I’ll check the library. You check the lab.” Lara said.

“Fine with me.” Gammond replied.

Lara walked over to the bookshelves of the library. Most of the books were in a language she couldn’t read: ancient Ansami. But, there were several leather bound books marked as records and journals of...well, who else? They were Caze’s.

“It’s confirmed that Caze used this place.” Lara said to Gammond across the chamber, “For what, I have yet to find out.”

Lara flipped open the book. The script was the ancient Ansami peasant script from which Atrellian acquired its core writing system. It was intelligible to her, but difficult to read.

These accounts were old. Extremely old. Dating back to the end of the Titan’s War a thousand years ago.

Perhaps these were the purest form of Caze’s inception of a plan. The beginning to whatever it was he was doing now.

So Lara read.  
_______________________________________________________________________

Caze sat alone, furiously scribbling in his journal.

Imprisoned. Vancen was imprisoned. Imprisoned? That bastard deserved so much more! How could those Champions be so satisfied with their work? They hadn’t done nearly enough for the injustice the Titans had caused.

While the others celebrated and reveled in the palace of Ansam, Caze sat on the roof of a nearby building, overlooking the sea on which they had fought.

Amazing that the war could go so far as to scar an ocean with its evidence. Thin layers of Megyno crystal floated in beds atop the water. Little towers of stone were all that remained of some islands.

Caze looked upon the ocean, sorrowful. He was the same. Ravaged and violated by that madman. An æpäwensva. What a joke of a title. High Warrior to the Titans meant nothing more than loyal dog. He’d been so foolish.

Because of that foolishness, he was cursed. While the other Champions would pass on their weapons once they perished, Caze would forever wander. Caze had no bones and no flesh. Everything about him was synthetic. He only looked human. Inside, he was Titanspawn.

He had willingly allowed Vancen to make him this monstrosity. He only had himself to blame, unlike the other Titanspawn, who were tricked and deceived into becoming the tragic horrors.

The enemies they had slaughtered so easily were once human, twisted and corrupted by the Abyss and Vancen’s metal.

The Titans did not deserve imprisonment. But if the other Champions were fine with the sentence, Caze would have to carry out justice on his own. He would have to learn to kill a Titan.

He was dubbed the Thief. At first, he didn’t like the pseudonym, but now he would have to live it. He needed the other Godstones to release Vancen from his prison.

He could do it tonight. Vancen was no doubt still weakened. He still had time.

 _What are you thinking?_ A hissing, serpentine female voice asked from his dagger. It was the voice of Khutu, the naga whose fang was used to create the Kynareth's blade.

“You can read my thoughts, can’t you?” Caze muttered as he closed his journal.

 _How will you get their stones?_ she hissed

“How else?” Caze asked, “I’m the Thief, aren’t I?”

_True, true._

Caze descended from the roof he had perched himself on and started in the direction of Ansam’s palace.

The guards let him in without an issue.

Their companions may object to being stolen away, Khutu whispered in his head.

“Can you interfere with their communications?” Caze asked, “I saw you do it with the Titanspawn and Vancen.”

_I can._

Caze scanned the giant ballroom in which all the world’s nations celebrated their victory. Among them were the most elite Casters and Warriors the world had ever seen: the Order of Champions.

He slunk about, not drawing attention to himself, targeting those of his allies who were most gullible. He plucked the stones of the entranced Berserker, the inwardly-occupied Shaman and the boisterous Hunter without them noticing. The Scholar was too involved with her ravings about technology to see Caze swipe the Brilliance Stone. The Warlock, too absorbed by his adoring flock. The Architect, too comfortable around his family. The Warrior, normally so alert and so precise, was drowning in wine, exposing the Enlightenment Stone to Caze.

The Marksman, as precise as he was, was too easily distracted.

Soon, nine of the stones were within his grasp. There was just the Knight. Hybald was surrounded by an adoring crowd, but looked past them, right at Caze.

Shit! Caze thought, Was he watching me?

Calm down. He just noticed you. Khutu assured.

Caze approached Hybald. The Knight had his helmet off, exposing his chiseled face, tanned Atrellian skin with silvery white hair.

“I haven’t seen you tonight, Caze.” Hybald said, smoothly.

“I’m not exactly in a celebratory mood.” Caze muttered.

“Why’s that, dear friend?”

Dear friend. Dear friend? Caze had known this man barely a week. All the Champions had fought a war together, except him. He had turned traitor at the last moment. Hybald had no grounds to show such obviously faked affection towards him.

“If I were truly a dear friend to you, you’d know me enough to know why.” Caze chided, “Not like it matters. We beat the Titans. Whatever the others wish to do to celebrate that is their prerogative.”

 _Nadriel is powerful, Caze._ Khutu reported, _She knows I’m blocking her out. I won’t last much longer!_

“I have some personal issues to attend to,” Caze said, patting Hybald on the shoulder while he took the stone out of his saber with his other hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Caze.” Hybald murmured.

Caze fled the ballroom, heart pounding. He held the Clarion stone in his hands.

Not wishing to risk discovery, Caze left the palace and made his way to the docks.

The island where Vancen had been sealed away was still intact. Caze stepped off the steel docks, using a mixture of Sylvanor and Kogniirok to freeze a pathway over the ocean.

He walked all the way out to the island and stepped upon its shores, lit only by moonlight. A scar in the rock was left where the portal had opened, eldritch and concentric patterns of crystallized Megyno surrounding it.

Caze knelt down and poured the God Stones onto the rock, arranging them in a circle before placing his own Broker Stone down. The Stones started to glow with an intense energy.

Caze staggered backward, willing his metallic bone to jut out of his synthetic dermis and act as blades.

His breath caught in his throat as the glowing came to a climax, his legs loaded and ready to launch himself at Vancen.

Then the glow died.

Nothing happened.

“What the…” Caze murmured. He retracted his bones into his body, the wounds healing in an instant.

Caze picked up the Broker Stone, frowning.

“Why didn’t it work?” he demanded.

 _Perhaps because you are not in the same place where the Titans were sealed._ Khutu hissed.

“What? I’m standing right on the mark!” Caze gritted his teeth.

 _But the planet has moved._ Khutu said, _It will likely never return to that precise location. The Roil’s positioning is parallel to this world._

“I know how the Roil works, damnit!” Caze snapped.

“Do you, now?”

Caze whirled around.

Three sailboats were anchored just beyond the shore. The Champions stood before him, disapproving looks on their faces.

“What were you trying to do?” Hybald asked.

Caze blinked, too stunned and embarrassed to move.

“He wanted to release his old master!” the Hunter growled, his tattoo-covered face contorting into one of excited hunger.

Caze finally found the strength to speak, “I was going to kill him.”

“Kill him?” Hybald asked, “Vancen’s already imprisoned.”

“And that’s good enough for you?” Caze roared, “He deserves to die a thousand deaths, each one taking a lifetime to complete!”

“We defeated them, Caze! Leave it alone!” Hybald insisted.

“No! You all don’t know what he’s done! The races he’s massacred! The weapons he’s forged! None of you have ever even been to the Abyss!” Caze roared, “You didn’t have to suffer the task of burrowing out of a woman’s womb, filled with burning acid and molten steel! None of you have traversed the rings of Megyki and had every single body part replaced with a synthetic mockery!”

“Your personal gripes with Vancen are your own.” Hybald said sternly, “Stop acting like a child. He’s done evil to us all.”

“You disregard me like I’m just some tool or a one of your raving adorers, frothing at the mouth at the chance to lick your boots!” Caze spat, “I went through hell.”

The snapping boom of a portal cracking open echoed. At least the stones could open a doorway.

The Champions started to converge on him. Caze put the Broker stone in his dagger.

“I think it’s time you walked a mile in my shoes.” Caze growled.

Hybald stuck out the hilt of his blade, calling the Clarion Stone. Caze caught the stone before it could fly back to its owner. He leapt forward, slashing Hybald’s chest as Shadowbane clattered to the ground.

Caze threw the Knight around, pushing him into the doorway to dark blue emptiness. The portal closed behind him.

Caze looked back to the other horrified Champions, with wide eyes.

The Hunter, Berserker and Warrior screamed in rage, drawing their Stones back to them and attacking.

Caze vanished behind a combination of Kogniirok and Glorekja. He killed him. He killed the Knight.

His hopes dashed, Caze ran and dove into the sea, letting the icy embrace of the waves carry him away.  
_______________________________________________________________________

Lara glanced up from Caze’s journal.

“Gam…” she murmured, “I know why Caze took the Stone.”

“What?” Gammond asked with surprise.

“He thinks he can kill them, Gam. He thinks he can kill the Titans. So he’s bringing them back.”


	26. Chapter 25: The Worth of a Man

Edmund staggered back into Fort Killigrew, his white robes stained with dirt and sand.

The soldiers moving about all stopped to stare at him. He didn’t pay them any mind, walking back to the Keep, where Elius was waiting for him. At least there was Elius. He was honest. More than she was.

“Edmund.” he said, “Camilla was arrested this morning for treason.”

Edmund glanced at him, “What?”

“She was reported talking to an informant.” the old man said, “I’m sorry. I know you two were...close. But you shouldn’t let that get in the way of your destiny.”

“I did some thinking last night…” Edmund muttered, “As the Knight, I can’t afford to be selfish. That’s what my relationship with Camilla was.”

He thought that, but he didn’t think he could act on it.

“It’s good you see it that way.” Elius patted him on the shoulder, “go get some rest.”

Edmund nodded.

He entered the keep and went up to the third floor. He passed Camilla’s room. The door was open, five or six Enforcers rifling through her things. What would they do if they found the Kynareth?

“Isley!” Pasco’s voice came from behind.

Edmund turned to meet the blonde haired minstrel, “What is it?”

“What in the Abyss happened?” Pasco asked, gesturing to Camilla’s room.

“Camilla is an Emryd spy.” Edmund said stoically, “I caught her speaking to a contact last night. She turned herself in this morning.”

“What?” Pasco exclaimed, “Camilla? A spy? I don't..." Pasco sighed in disbelief.

Edmund shrugged.

Pasco. He was a fool. But a loyal one. Edmund suddenly found himself incredibly thankful for the bard. But he’d never express that. It would be the perfect opportunity to tear their friendship away from him.

“Are you alright?” Pasco asked.

Edmund tilted his head, “I freaked out a little last night. But...yes. I’m fine.”

Pasco nodded slowly, “Well...alright, then. If you need anything, let me know.”

Edmund nodded before walking off towards his quarters. He closed the door behind him and sighed. Some creature’s claw was squeezing his heart near to bursting. He stripped off his dirty robes, grabbed a bead of Megyno crystal and ran a bath for himself. He sank into the warm water, falling into the abyss of deep thought once again.

He swallowed the bead, the energy making his flers so much more powerful. He cast a Faithfler and reached out to all the plants and fungi in the keep, specifically in the dungeon.

Somehow, he was able to see through them when he closed his eyes. He could view the entirety of the dungeon. Camilla was locked in a cell opposite to Dregu.

“Fancy seeing you here again.” Dregu said. He was speaking Morgaul, but the plants understood his meaning. Though, not by words. Nevertheless Edmund did too.

“Fuck off.” Camilla muttered in Morgaul.

“Did the Physician betray you?” Dregu asked.

Camilla didn’t respond. She hugged her knees against her chest.

“I never understood why you insisted on remaining loyal to him. We both knew he would betray you at some point.” Dregu mused.

“I had no choice.” Camilla said.

Dregu scoffed.

“You know what he’s doing, right?” Camilla spat, “The longer I could postpone his operations here, the longer we had to overthrow him.”

“It’s useless now.” Dregu said, “He no doubt sent the Karo-Kunnar back with Samga at the head.”

“Then your people are lost.” Camilla sighed.

“We survived a calamity once. We’ll do it again.” Dregu muttered, “Why are you here? I thought you fell in love with the Atrellian boy. Isley.”

“I didn’t fall in love.” she said.

“I’d beg to differ.” the Morgaul replied.

“It was an act. For...for the mission. I needed to have the Knight by my side. So I could guard the Stone.”

“But also so he could protect you from your father.” Dregu added.

Camilla shrank down even more.

So all of it was a lie. Irakel, her allegiance and even her affections. Their friendship, their evenings spent together. Lies.

Edmund cut off the fler. He couldn’t bear to watch any more. He instead just let himself drift off to sleep.  
_________________________________________________________________

In the end, no matter how awful Edmund felt, the protest had to happen. He gave himself two days to sulk about Camilla. That being said, he hadn’t gone to the dungeon to question her. He couldn’t let himself be distracted.

The Snakes and Pious were about to speak up against the laws of their land for the first time in years. Peacefully, for the first time in centuries.

They needed Edmund to give them the courage they needed to stand up against the Nobility.

Djarig, Taue and Faroiv would manage things on the ground. Edmund only had Pasco by his side when he appealed to the Nobles. Hopefully Elius would take his side.

He wanted to avoid violence and a bloodbath at all costs. But nevertheless, he still restocked himself with God Shards and a few beads of pure Megyno he’d asked Djarig to secretly collect for him. The boost in power his flers got from the beads were well worth the danger of acquiring them. Though, he preferred God Shards. He was still a little wary of Dregu’s mentioning of how Megyno poisoned his people. Despite the fact that he’d swallow two in the past three days.

Edmund dressed himself only in a basic shirt and trousers. They made him feel more sure of himself.

He slung Shadowbane on his hip and took a deep breath before looking back to his notes.

The moment lunch began for the soldiers. That was how long he had. About twenty minutes.

His proposal looked like a bunch of chicken scratch attempting to be Trwaj hand, but it outlined a demand he hoped wouldn’t shake up the Nobles too much but would also provide what the lower classes needed to have decent lives.

Base living standard for Snakes and a few other requests. Justice. Plain and simple.

Edmund rewrote and practiced lines he planned to say in his head until a knock came from his door.

“Edmund? You still doing this?” Pasco’s voice came from behind the door, muffled.

“Yes.” Edmund said resolutely. He folded the piece of parchment and left his quarters, meeting the minstrel.

“Ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I can be.” Edmund muttered, “Let’s go.”

Together, the two of them made their way from the third floor to the second. With each step they descended, his heart beat slightly faster. A fluttering sensation never left his stomach, almost as though a swarm of flies were trapped inside.

He grabbed a waterskin off his hip, trying to hydrate his dry mouth. Even as he did that simple action, his hands quivered slightly. It was so minor Pasco didn’t notice, but Edmund knew. He was terrified. Maybe even more than the soldiers that would revolt outside.

On the second floor, Pasco essentially led Edmund by the nose into the meeting room. General Thorne and his advisors, including Elius, sat around the rectangular table.

“Lord Isley.” Thorne muttered, “You said this was a meeting of utmost importance. Did you find something out from the prisoners?”

Edmund took a deep breath, “Gentlemen, I’ve brought you all here today to discuss a grave matter. That being the abuse of the Snakes and the rigid caste system which I think is driving our war effort into the ground.”

No one spoke up for a solid five seconds.

“What?” Thorne exclaimed, “I don’t have time to waste on your petty idealism, boy. Elius, what the hell did I-”

“I’m serious.” Edmund cut him off.

It was at that point, an Enforcer stumbled into the room, “Sir! There’s trouble in the fort!”

“Trouble? An enemy attack?” Thorne asked.

“No! The soldiers! They’ve gathered around the keep and seem to be revolting!” the Enforcer exclaimed, “Though they haven’t made use of any violent tactics.”

Thorne’s nostrils flared, “Is this your doing, Isley?”

“That’s just how the people feel.” Edmund shrugged.

“Gods damnit, let me see for myself!” Thorne stood from his seat and left the chamber, his advisors and Edmund in tow. They stepped out onto a balcony on the floor meant for giving addresses.

Legions of men, lacking their armor in a show of nonviolence, had gathered around the base of the keep, chanting and shouting.

“What is this?” Thorne pulled at the collar of his nice robes, “Set up a perimeter. Make sure they don’t charge the castle.”

“We only have flerfingers, sire.” the Enforcer said.

“Then use them.”

“Edmund, what have you done?” Elius muttered.

“Don’t worry, I have it all under control.” he whispered to the Archcaster.

It was going well so far. Djarig, Faroiv and Taue managed to get nearly two thirds of the army on their side. Pretty much all of the Snakes as well. Even some Trwaj.

“They won’t charge the castle unless I tell them to.” Edmund said to Thorne.

“So you managed to steal my army right out from under me, huh?” Thorne chuckled.

“No. Your soldiers simply recognized that they are worth more than how you treat them.” Edmund said.

“What do you want?” Thorne asked, sighing.

“First, I want to discuss the Pious. Many of them have lost profits they could’ve made without the war and most have fought here for years. Once the war ends, they won’t be able to use the skills they’ve acquired on the battlefield. We request that you appeal to form a standing army where Pious can become skilled workers like the Trwaj.” Edmund said.

“Just an appeal? Fine.” Thorne muttered.

“Second, I demand that participation in society, the ability to have a family and the ability to break from work stop being considered special privileges of the Pious. They are actions that should be available to any being simply for being sapient.” Edmund said.

“You expect me to make all these changes?” Thorne asked.

“Only on the front. The Homeland will deal with us later.” Edmund said.

“What else?”

“The Pious demand that they earn the right to participate in trade.” Edmund said, “They are only allowed to buy certain things and are unable to create businesses. They wish to have freedom from both those things. That’s all for them. The Snakes also have demands.”

Thorne’s eyes darted to Edmund.

“The Snakes demand that they be given the opportunity to realistically pay off their sentences within a ten year time span.” Edmund said.

“What?” Thorne growled.

“That’s a rather kind demand, considering they could just ask for freedom out right.”

“Fine.” Thorne gritted his teeth.

“Next, they ask to be treated like regular soldiers instead of their jobs being to essentially draw out their executions.”

“No!” Thorne roared, “My army relies on the role the Snakes play.”

“Then maybe it’s your army that’s the problem.” Edmund said, “The Pious are not well trained for combat, so I don’t understand why Snakes must sacrifice themselves to prevent Pious casualties.”

“They are an example. Their deaths ensure order in my camp.” Thorne explained.

Edmund sighed, but continued, “Lastly they’ve asked that you provide a basic standard of living for them equal to what the Pious currently receive.”

“These demands are outrageous!” Thorne shouted, “You might as well ask me to abolish the Hierarchy!”

“That would work too.” Edmund shrugged.

“Bronduk’s Hierarchy is what keeps our society together! It ensures that all people cooperate and understand their place in our society!”

“Really? Just a few months ago, I was a Snake. Now I outrank you in religious authority.” Edmund said.

“It is the position of the powerful to preside over and guard the weak!” Thorne exclaimed.

“But how do you acquire that power? You’re born into it! The hierarchy refuses to consider that the Pious, Trwaj and Snakes are also skilled and strong in their own ways!” Edmund countered.

“Your definition of strength is too flimsy to guide a society.” Throne growled, “I’ll show you what it means to make use of one’s strength.”

Screams and gasps sounded from the ground below. Edmund furrowed his brow and glanced over the wall of the balcony.

A Snakes, dressed in rags slumped to the ground, blood pouring from his chest.

“What are you doing?” Edmund roared, “They weren’t aggressing you!”

“They threatened the order of my camp.” Thorne grinned, “I will not tolerate such foolishness during times of war. Enforcers! Kill all the Snakes in Fort Killigrew! And kill any who get in your way!”

“No!” Edmund screamed.

Enforcers appeared from the keep, launching handfuls of metal scraps and caltrops at blinding speeds.

“Fight back!” Edmund roared, “Defend yourselves!”

Edmund started to leap over the edge of the balcony, but Thorne grabbed onto his shirt, slamming him to the ground.

“Oh no, you don’t!” the general roared. He glanced to his advisors, “Command the ground troops! Reorganize!”

“Sir!”

They ran off, Elius included. Though he didn’t respond.

Pasco ran at Throne and tried to pull him off Edmund.

“Pasco, no!” Edmund cried.

But it was too late. Thorne slashed Pasco’s face with a blade that suddenly protruded from his arm. The general was a Crusader. Impetellus and Commural. He could turn any fluid in his body into metal, including his own blood.

Edmund slammed a knee into Thorne’s gut and blasted him off with a Lawfler. He scrambled to his feet, eating a Godshard before leaping off the balcony. Edmund softened his landing with blasts of force and deflected an incoming volley of projectiles from Enforcers.

The Pious and Snakes were practically defenseless, since none were flerfingers. Those hidden among the Snakes who were, had no fuel.

“Retreat!” Edmund shouted, “Go back to your barracks! Arm yourselves! I’ll hold them!”

The people obeyed and scrambled for their weapons and armor.

Edmund swallowed another Godshard and started burning a Truthfler to predict their movements. However, many of the attacking flerfingers had a seemingly infinite amount of shadows leaping from them. Other Seekers. He couldn’t predict their movements if they too used Truthflers.

He drew Shadowbane, slashing through several Enforcers that had surrounded him. He fired back any projectiles he saw. He fended off any Crusaders with his blade. He used his thief’s instincts to isolate possibilities of Seekers’ movements. He gave it everything he had.

Edmund was given precious relief when the assault on him took a short break.

“Damn you!” Edmund roared, “Are you all happy just being soulless puppets for the Nobility? Do you even give a damn about your God?”

No one responded.

A pull came from his right. A group of six Sparkers used their collective abilities along with a metal coil to drag Shadowbane from him. The pull was strong enough to yank it from his grip.

A hundred projectiles shot at him. Edmund hit the floor, allowing the projectiles to go over him.

He swallowed a bead of Megyno and used the surge of power to knock five Enforcers off their feet with a single blast of force.

It still wasn’t enough.

Edmund grabbed a vial off his belt, full of golden liquid. A flerish stim. He chugged the liquid as the flerfingers warily stalked him after witnessing his increase of power.

He would have his justice. He needed it for real this time. His panic was calmed, his mind cleared. His knowledge and wisdom came back to him. He was a sage, a scholar and a saint. One who stood up for his ideals with unwavering confidence and a slow burn of building to this moment. His patience, his serenity, his will all came back to him at that moment, almost causing vertigo.

He waited for the flerfingers to get the confidence once more to attack. He had earned his power. He worked tirelessly day and night, with endless repetition. The time he sacrificed to gain his mastery. All he needed was to see it clearly. He was a master of flers. An Archcaster.

Edmund consumed all the Godshards he had available. 

And his flerish showed itself.

Black snake’s venom dripped from his fingertips. It was rather fitting. He was a Snake. And venom...why, venom was the strength of the supposed weak. Intellect, might, willpower, agility, compassion, wisdom, charisma. All these and more were the venoms of all those who held no wealth and no power.

And his potent desire brewed the deadliest of venoms.

A Crusader charged him, wielding metal claws made from blood on his fingers.

In an instant, Edmund redirected his momentum and swiped his two fingers across his throat. A wound appeared in the Crusader’s throat, the venom entering his body. He collapsed to the ground.

The flerfingers took a cautious step back. But his mission was to hold them. He would wait for them to attack.

And they did.

He used his Lawflers for mobility with perfect precision and dampened the hesitant flerfingers’ desire to attack. He used his Faithflers to really understand the scope of everything around him in a small radius, using the collective perceptions of the shrubs and cacti. His Truthflers allowed him to see their patterns of attack. He even drew on the third ability of the Truthfler that people rarely used.

It was a hex designed to make one invincible to specific flerical abilities. However, one had to be able to form a correct prediction about the ability they wished to be immune to. Get it wrong and you’d have to recast it for a large amount of Megyno energy. The inefficiency made it a really unpopular option.

But when fighting ten to twenty flerfingers, a fourth of them could practically be rendered useless by the ability.

So obviously, he chose to create a hex against force blasts from Lawflers. Not even a gust of flerical wind would touch him.

Edmund had never experienced this calmness before. He had a similar feeling with the Clarion Stone, but that sense very clearly came from an outside source. This was all his own.

But Edmund failed to consider less immediate threats.

His Truthfler vanished. Then his Faithfler. As his Lawfler was extinguished, he collapsed to the ground, unable to redirect his momentum with a blast of force.

Six Enforcers had cracked his flers, two for each one. They kept their claws in his energy wells, despite the intense drain that must’ve had.

Then a channel of pressure slammed into his back, pinning him to the ground. Then another quickly followed. Soon, all present Enforcers were holding him down. He could’ve cast his flers again. But one Lawfler couldn’t counter six. He couldn’t reach his Megyno beads either under all this pressure.

Finally one of the Crusaders kicked him in the head, stealing his consciousness away.  
______________________________________________

Edmund blinked himself awake. He was dazed and disoriented, his heart pounding in his head.

He was so drained he could barely stand. He staggered to his feet and gasped as he saw the smoke rising from the barracks.

Edmund stumbled onward towards the smoke.

The bodies of Snakes lay strewn about the camp. All unarmed.

 _No,_ Edmund thought to himself, _There had to be some form of resistance._

He continued. The scent of charred wood and metallic blood invaded his nose, sickening him.

The bodies only grew in number.

More Snakes, some Pious. All without weapons.

“Stop!” Edmund shouted at the Enforcers and other flerfingers who continued to kill the scattering soldiers.

 _Had I...had I never organized them, this never would’ve happened!_ Edmund thought.

“Sir...Knight…” a voice groaned.

Edmund looked down as a woman covered in blood, one wound going across her head, grabbed onto his pant leg.

“Please save us, Sir Knight...save us.”

Edmund tore his leg away, “No. No, I’m not your savior. Please, just die in peace.”

The woman fell limp.

Edmund collapsed to his knees.

It should've been him. All these people died because of what he did. This never should’ve happened.

Edmund clutched his head as he broke down, sobbing quietly. None of this...no one was supposed to die. He just wanted peace. They all just wanted peace.

“Bronduk,” he whispered, “Why?”


	27. Chapter 26: What Must Be Done

“That’s…” Gammond stuttered, “That’s insane!”

Lara exhaled a long sigh, putting the book down on a counter, “I know.”

“He...is Titanspawn? That might explain his immortality.” Gammond muttered, “Do you think he keeps records on his, er...unique biological situation?”

“Perhaps.” Lara said, “But most of this research seems to be towards tracking the world’s movement in relation to the Roil.”

“That would explain all the math I can’t understand.” he cupped his chin, “Do you think we’ll be able to catch him if we head towards the Ansami Isles?”

“Catch him?” Lara perked up.

“Well, yeah. This is much bigger than just Emreth. If he unleashes the Titans…” Gammond sighed. The rest was implied.

“I don’t think he’s going South.” Lara said, “He would’ve...well, he would’ve fled South. But here we are tracking his footsteps Northward. If I were him, I would’ve abandoned any chance of going to the exact same coordinates. Maybe he found another spot where the planet would cross the gateway.”

“That’s actually a pretty plausible plan.” Gammond murmured. He walked over to Caze’s lab area and started rifling through yellowed sheets of parchment that had diagrams and maps drawn onto them.

He flattened one out.

“It seems his findings concluded that the planet revolves around the sun, the revolution an ellipse by a small margin that increases each time by a few inches.” Gammond said, “He calculated the margin by measuring the distance of other celestial bodies with...parallax.”

Lara stood and walked over to the diagram.

“That’s...that’s rather brilliant.” Lara frowned, “He split the area of predicted revolutions into a grid pattern.”

“What’s this bit here about Megyno intensity?”

“He seems to have gone back and somehow measured the power output of Megyno Crystals from the original site, then used that system of measurement to determine a set span of length within the Roil.” Lara said.

A bunch of technical jargon mixed with mathematics allowed the two of them to go over how Caze had determined the point at which Ground Zero, which was Caze’s name for the portal site, would once again cross the surface of the planet.

“He’s going east to Morgaul…” Lara muttered as she finished solving a proportion between Roil space and material space, “That’s where Ground Zero is!”

“Well, we have to stop him.” Gammond exclaimed, “We need to get all this to the Consuls!”

“We should also take a look at his other journals so we know how he intends to do all-”

A chill shot up Lara’s spine as a mind-numbing chattering noise came from the shadows of the building.

Clacks against stone echoed throughout the hall as Gammond and Lara turned. Something emerged from the darkness, crawling on all fours. The creature was hideous, to say the least.

Its head was covered in a bright, metallic sheen, attached to a hulking synthetic carapace on its back. A fleshy, skinless jaw completed its fang-filled mouth. The creature opened its maw to let out another round of chattering.

Its body was an amalgam of goopy, almost dripping flesh grafted onto chunks of weathered, sharp-edged metal, covered in armor-like shells of carapace that kept its insides from spilling out. Long, spindly mandibles of metal extended from its accursed hands like fingers made of crude, foot-long needles.

“Gods and Champions.” Lara gasped.

Gammond put his helmet on and pulled his new prototype gun from its holster on his back, “Get the diagrams and journals at least.”

A loud blast filled the hall as Gammond fired his weapon at the creature. Sparks flew as the pellet dinged off its metal face. It staggered clumsily backwards, sending out an ear-shattering wail.

Gamond fired again. This time the pellet made a dent in its head. It screamed in pain once again. With a third shot, the creature fell limp, black ichor leaking from its head.

“What the hell was that?” Lara asked.

“If I had to guess...Titanspawn.” Gammond murmured, “We should leave in case there are more.”

Lara didn’t hesitate to stack the journals in her arms while Gammond rolled up the diagrams.

They left the building, but stopped in their tracks the moment they could see the chasm outside. Chattering filled Lara’s ears. She pressed her free hand to her ear, cringing at the noise emanating from the creature on the other side of the bridge.

As if responding to a call, more chattering sounded off from behind them. Then a whole wave, like a hive of buzzing bees sounded from the depths of the chams beneath them.

Lara glanced down and gasped as she caught sight of tens, possibly hundreds of Titanspawn clacking and stabbing their way up the columns of the bridge.

A humming noise added to the cacophony of audible pain as hunks of flesh and metal with vaguely distinct heads and arms flitted up to the bridge on fly-like wings.

Grafted to their arms, were metallic cannons that lit with a white glow. A bolt of white energy fired from one of the creatures. Gammond went to deflect it with his Roilplate, but the field neglected to even shimmer as the bolt grazed his arm. Gammond cried, stumbling back.

Lara caught him, “It seems to be neutral Megyno energy. Our fields can’t deflect it.

She wrapped the journals with her belt, freeing her hands. Lara grabbed her whip and speared the creature that had fired at them in the head with her dart. Before it could fall, Lara swung her whip around and smashed the body into another flier, sending them both careening down into the darkness.

Lara bit off a Godshard and swung her whip around, channeling electricity into her weapon with a Stormfler. She lashed one of the fliers. The creature fell for a split second, stunned by the electricity. But it wasn’t powerful enough. It regained its flight and fired several energy bolts at them.

They ducked out of the way.

“How are we gonna deal with those?” Gammond grunted, “We can’t even use explosives!”

“I can take out the fliers if my flers had a little more oomph!” Lara shouted over the Titanspawn’s incessant noisiness.

Then she got an idea. She’d seen her wretched uncle do it.

Lara took a Megyno Crystal out of one of her armor pieces that was slightly cracked. She stomped on it, shattering the crystal into several swallowable pieces.

Lara scooped up the dust and shoved it into her mouth. It tasted foul, but energy rushed through her veins.

“Lara, did you just eat a raw crystal?” Gammond asked, alarmed.

“I need the boost! My uncle did it and was fine!”

Gammond huffed, “Just don’t do anymore than necessary. That’s really bad for you.”

Lara’s whip crackled with blue arcs of lightning as she cast it up at the fliers. She didn’t even have to hit. A jolt of electricity jumped from her whip to two of the flying Titanspawn. They spasmed in the air as some of their machinery exploded, sending them downwards.

But they still had the grounded Titanspawn to take care of.

Lara swung her whip about in wide arcs, stunning and electrifying as many Tianspawn as she could, but they came in droves and hordes.

The bridge was narrow, so it was easy to throw the creatures off into the chasm. But there were still too many to get themselves across the bridge.

Lara glanced up as a screeching Titanspawn leapt from the chasm wall towards her, claws ready to rake into her flesh.

A loud blast from Gammond’s gun sent the creature spiraling back into the darkness.

Lara cast another handful of Titanspawn off the bridge before staggering. She heaved each breath as she supported herself on her knees, “How...how are we going to get through? There’s too many.”

“We’re just going to have to charge through them.” Gammond said, “You stun as many as you can straight down the middle. While they’re spasming, I’ll open up a path with a Lawfler.”

Lara nodded, channeling all the raw energy she had left into her whip. She cast it out, the snap echoing like a crack of lightning. Azure light leapt onto dozens upon dozens of bodies.

Gammond dashed forward, arms crossed to protect his face as he blasted a stream of wind down the middle. He tossed Titanspawn aside as they dashed past the horde.

“Up the stairs! Hurry!” Gammond cried.

Lara bolted past Gammond, climbing the spiral staircase as fast as she could. He was close behind her.

Chattering and clacking returned to her ailed head as the Titanspawn recovered from their shock and made chase.

Lara could hear Gammond starting to drag. His breath was labored and he sounded exhausted. She was the more athletic of the two. He would have to keep up, though.

Against her better judgement, Lara spared a glance backwards at him.

“Look out!”

Gammond cried out as a Titanspawn jumped onto his back. The creature swiped with its claws, but the long needles grafted to its hands sparked off his armor.

Lara moved to help him but another Titanspawn leapt out from behind Gammond at her. Lara caught its arms in the air, but it still forced her to the ground. She shoved it off her and off the staircase before it could attack her in earnest.

Lara stood as the Titanspawn tore off Gammond’s Roilplate chestpiece as he struggled. She rushed to grab the creature, but made it just after it sliced into Gammond’s gut.

“No!” Lara gasped. She wrapped her whip around the creature’s throat, pulling it off of him and snapping its neck.

She shoved a hefty kick into the next nearest Titanspawn before scooping Gammond up in her arms and fleeing up the stairs as fast as she could.

Lara clambered out of the staircase, triggering something that caused the cave floor to start closing again. She staggered out of the cave, Gammond’s blood staining her armor.

“Medic!” Lara shouted hoarsely as she stumbled into the sunlight, “Get a medic!”  
____________________________________________________________________

Lara sat alone between two hospital beds.

Lucia and Gammond were both out of commission. While Lucia was in a coma, Gammond’s wounds were far worse. So bad, that they warranted returning to the homeland.

Gammond’s wound festered no matter what they cleaned it with. He would have occasional episodes of wild thrashing and violent screams while still unconscious.

The Preservers claimed they’d never seen anything like this. Their flers did nothing to heal him.

Lara suspected that it was something beyond a regular infection. It was probably that ancient disease, Megysis, as much as she hated to think about it. She hoped that reports on the disease were greatly exaggerated.

Mythical or not, the fact still remained that once again, she failed to be strong enough to defend those she cared for.

“I brought you some breakfast…” the deep voice of Consul Hross said somberly., “As thanks.”

Lara glanced up at the aged man. He offered her a steaming tray of food. Lara gratefully accepted.

“What do the Preservers say?” Gammond’s father asked.

“Still unclear of the source.” Lara said, “But I would recommend they read through Caze’s records.”

“Did you find anything in that route?”

Lara nodded. “The Titanspawn are equipped with claws carved from pure Megyno Crystal. According to Caze’s journals, stabbing someone with pure Megyno can cause an abnormality in the body that causes tumors and disease. It was a huge problem back in Ansam.”

“Does he mention a cure?”

“The only cure is...replacing the infected parts with synthetic ones. In essence, become Titanspawn yourself.” Lara muttered.

“Let’s...let’s just hope it’s not that.” Hross murmured, attempting to keep up a facade of strength.

With that, Consul Hross left the infirmary. Lara glanced over at the tray of food. It was one of many that had gone uneaten. She didn’t feel hungry. Hadn’t for days. Well, not hungry for food.

She had the strength to defy the mold the Atrellians tried to force her into. She had the strength to resist her uncle. She had the strength to love people, even after all she’d endured. But she still didn’t have the strength to protect those people.

She needed more. She needed a weapon or a tool or anything that would let her maintain control. But she couldn’t.

Ironic that Gammond was the only person that could’ve garnered her more leniency and freedom. The freedom that she could’ve made use of to protect him.

Lara buried her head in her hands. 

No. No amount of freedom or leniency could’ve prevented that. Nothing would have helped…

Lara left Lucia and Gammond’s bedsides, leaving the hospital entirely. She instead took a leisurely stroll to clear her mind. While it may have seemed leisurely on the outside, Lara’s head was swirling with conflict.

She was desperate for someone to blame, for an enemy to target or a solution to her fears. But there was this insistence inside her that nothing could be done. That she was helpless. Rage boiled within her at that notion. She refused to accept it. There had to be something she could do.

Lara stopped. She faced the Temple a Tialeis, a dark cathedral made from stone and stained glass, a violet banner with the symbol of golden flame on it hanging from the sloped roofs.

Hesitantly, Lara stepped inside through the open glass doors.

No one was inside. Rarely anyone who followed the God of Death prayed in the cathedral. They carried out their worship by living to the fullest and tackling their ailments. But Lara’s issues couldn’t be resolved with mere action.

She’d always turned to prayer and Bronduk in the past, whenever she was unsure. But the closest thing she had in Emreth was Tialeis. Her supposed patron.

“Lady Shawe.” A kindly old man muttered as he sat up from a stool behind a podium at the center of the chapel.

She was about to ask how he knew her. He was a priest of Tialeis. Of course he knew her.

“Hello...er, what do people call you?” Lara asked.

“I am Conjurer Gador.” The elderly man bowed his head, “It’s an honor to have you here, Lady Warlock.”

Lara nodded absentmindedly. Her attention had turned to the giant wooden statue of the first Warlock, Zinon.

Zinon was a rather thin, but tall man, face obscured by a solid metal mask and the hood of a long cloak. He was more heavily armored than the term Warlock would imply, just like her.

“You seem troubled, Lady Shawe…” Gador said.

“I’m fine.” Lara said. People like Gador were her utmost supporters. If they thought her weak, the Consulate would lose a very valuable ally in the Cult of Tialeis.

“It is not weakness to show sentiment, my lady.” Gador said as though reading her mind.

“How’d you know what I was thinking?” Lara asked.

“Hm. You are not the only Tialemancer whose powers influence the mind.” the Conjurer said, “As I was saying, I would argue that it is weak of someone to cover up how they feel. It shows they lack the strength to confront it or live too much of their life for others. So please, feel free to share.”

“I...I’m lost, Conjurer.” Lara muttered, “Up until now, I’ve had the strength to deal with everything that’s come my way. And now it feels as though I’m just...a failure. I think Tialeis may have abandoned me. I’ve failed to save two of my closest friends. The man I love may die because I wasn’t powerful enough.”

“Why do you believe that Tialeis has abandoned you?” the Conjurer asked.

“I just told you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but I’ve heard nothing that should convince you that you’ve been abandoned.” Gador said, “Believing that a god such as him was with you in the first place was a mistake.”

“That’s...not helping.”

“If Tialeis wanted his Champion to be strong, do you think he would’ve held her hand all the way there?” Gador asked, “All the times you were powerful enough was your power and yours alone that allowed you to succeed. What he has done is presented you with an opportunity.”

“What opportunity?”

“Every mistake, every blunder and ever mishap is an opportunity disguising itself. The strong will recognize these opportunities and use them to learn.” Gador explained, “Every great man or woman has failed more than they succeeded.”

“How am I supposed to learn from this? That my flers aren’t strong enough? That when a greater threat presents itself, I should back down?”

“You were Atrellian, yes?”

Lara nodded.

“I see that you still believe some of the lies they taught you.” Gador said.

Lara jerked back, “No, I don’t. I’ve left that behind.”

“You can never truly leave it behind, my lady.” Gador said, “What you can do is identify what is still with you and defy it. You told me that you believe the inherent strength of your flers was the reason behind your failure.”

“What of it?”

“That means you still believe that the way you were born determines the course of your fate. In your heart, you still believe that your life is on a set course, given to you at birth.” he said, “You think both too big and too small.”

“How’s that possible?”

“You think too small, believing that had something about a particular situation you were in been different, the outcome would have changed. Had you never gotten into that situation in the first place, it would definitely have been different. You think too big because the reasoning you give is that there is something essentially wrong with you that you are unable to change.”

“I had to get myself into that situation. There was no other choice.” Lara said, “I had direct orders from the Consuls. The information we got as a result was invaluable.”

“Ah, but had there been no Consuls, there are an infinite number of other possibilities that would have been better. Had you been the one to give the order, I have no doubt that the scenario would have gone far smoother for your interests.” Gador pointed out, “But do not focus on the past as much as I am.”

“So you’re saying I should...overthrow the Consulate?”

“I didn’t say anything like that.” Gador shook his head, “But if that is what you truly feel you must do, I will not stop you. Just remember that you must do what you think is best.”

She believed that the Consulate could do good work, she really did. She liked the idea of the people ruling themselves.

But even so…

All they did was fight and squabble. Meanwhile, Emreth fractured further and Caze drew closer to unleashing the Titans on the world once again. She would unite Emreth in Gammond’s stead. And stop Caze before he opens his portal. She had to at least be given enough control over the military to do those two things.  
“Thank you, Conjurer.” Lara said, “I think I know what I need to do now.”

“Godspeed, Lady Warlock. Whatever you choose, we who act on behalf of Tialeis will support you.” Gador nodded.

Lara left the cathedral with a thankful nod, marching purposefully towards the palace. 

She went straight toward the second floor meeting room after she crossed the bridge that separated the palace from the city.. The Consuls should’ve been in conference right now about their next steps.

Lara burst through the wooden doors, drawing all eyes towards her.

“Miss Shawe…?” Consul Hross asked.

“Gammond’s loss as a commander is unfortunate, but we cannot stop on his account.” Lara said, “We have to continue pushing North.”

The consuls looked at each other.

“Miss Shawe,” the Consul of Foreign Affairs muttered, “Without the Consul of War present, we cannot continue military campaigns.”

“Then make me an interim.” Lara said.

“That would be a heavy violation.” Consul Hross said.

“What?” Lara asked, “Can’t we get an interim somehow?”

Hross shook his head, “We’d have to hold another election.”

“And how long would that take?” Lara asked.

“About two weeks at fastest so we give the candidates time to campaign.” Hross said.

“We don’t have two weeks.” Lara said, “We have only three before Caze opens his portal to the Roil!”

“The Former King Regent’s actions are not our concern.” the Consul of Industry said.

“Of course they are! If Caze unleashes the Titans, modern society isn’t prepared to fight them!” Lara exclaimed, “We need to send our armies!”

“We cannot compromise the oaths we’ve sworn, Miss Shawe.” Hross said calmly, but forcefully.

Lara gritted her teeth, “You’d give up on your son’s hopes just like that?”

“Miss Shawe, please leave this room before I have you escorted out. This is a Consul meeting.” The Consul of Foreign Affairs insisted, “Leave this to the real leaders.”

Lara glared at the woman, “What does that mean, Consul?”

“It means, you’re just a girl.” the Consul snapped, “You’re a face. A symbol. Nothing more. Now stop acting like you have power.”

Lara’s hand moved to her whip, “You’re sorely mistaken, Consul. I have more power than all of you combined.”

“Lara, please just settle down. Leave us and we’ll forget this ever happened.” Hross said.

“And let you fools continue squabbling about what needs to be done?” Lara asked, “If you all are going to let your own weakness get in the way of what’s best for Emreth, you shouldn’t be ruling in the first place!”

“Guards!” the Consul of Foreign Affairs called. Lara reacted by wrapping her whip around the old woman’s throat.

“Lara stop this! Continue any further and you’ll be staging a Coup!” Hross shouted.

“I don’t give a damn.” Lara growled, “You Consuls don’t have the kind of strength this country needs.”

Lara’s thumb grazed the bone shard on the handle that, upon pricking, would stab the Consul in her throat.

Could she do it? Should she do it? There were many people dissatisfied with their new government. She could re-establish the monarchy under her rule and no one would be able to stop her from deploying their troops northward.

The spontaneous overthrowing of a government wasn’t something most people could just do. But then again, she wasn’t most people.

Lara sighed. She came to a decision.

“If you don’t want your dear friend here to die, you’re going to approve some new laws.” Lara growled.

A wave of confusion and outrage spread through the room.

“This is blackmail! Corruption!” Hross shouted.

“Write or I kill her!” Lara roared.

The Consul of Order brought out a piece of paper. He was a younger man of about thirty.

“We alone can’t approve whatever laws you’re suggesting.” he said.

“I know. But I will find and kill anyone or anything that would need to be dead in order to get them passed. So don’t assume your restrictions keep you safe.” Lara said, “Now, I want you to create a new position for me.”

The Consul gulped, “W-what would that be?”

“Empress.”


	28. Chapter 27: True Strength

“Our scouts sent word that the Karo-Kunnar have been sighted heading towards us.” General Thorne said.

“And the Snakes from the coast?” Elius asked.

“They’ll be here.” Thorne muttered, “Though, with our reduced numbers, I don’t know we’ll be able to hold them.”

“I think they will be open to negotiate for their leader.” Elius said.

Thorne shook his head, “No. The savages wouldn’t know how. We need to eliminate them so they don’t cause any problems in the future. We need our greatest weapon.”

“Yes, sire.”

“There won’t be any trouble, will there?” Thorne asked.

“Since the incident, he’s grown far more complacent. All he does is survive and do as I command.” Elius said.

“Good.” Thorne smiled, “Go inform him on what he’s to do.”

“Right away.” Elius bowed his head before leaving Thorne’s side.

It had been two weeks since Edmund’s protest. The entire population of Snakes were slaughtered in the process as well as many Pious who attempted to defend them. The army was far more efficient and disciplined thanks to that show of force.

Ultimately, Elius believed it was for the best. The majority of their army was still alive, but morale was at an all time low. That being said, the soldiers didn’t dare to act on that low morale.

Elius entered Edmund’s room. The boy sat staring at the wall with a blank, apathetic expression. Elius had to admit he was a little worried about the boy, but so long as he did everything that was asked of him, it was of no consequence.

“Edmund. The Karo-Kunnar are coming. We’ll need you to fight with them when they do. I’ll give you the Clarion stone when the siege begins.” Elius said.

Edmund nodded, “Yes sir.” He murmured.

“Also Camilla’s execution is tomorrow.” Elius added, “You’ll be giving the address.”

Not even a blink from him.

Edmund nodded again.

“Good.”

“Elius,” Edmund muttered, “Why couldn’t those men be free? Why did they have to die?”

Elius sighed, breaking eye contact from him.

“Not this again.”

Edmund’s frown deepened.

“Time and time again, I try to advise you and I try to remain pleasant, but you insist. Why do you insist on disrupting the order we have so much? Isn’t that good enough?” Elius asked, “When I was your age, I never would have dreamed of acting like that.”

“Well I’m not you.” Edmund murmured.

Elius sighed, “Just...give it a rest. Your behavior’s been excellent these past few weeks. I’ve other matters to attend to. Stay put.”

Edmund nodded. With that, Elius left the room.  
________________________________________________

Edmund did not stay put, However. He had an errand to run.

That night, Edmund stole a horse from the stables and rode for the Ansami ruin.

His ride was...unpleasant. Being alone with his thoughts wasn’t an enviable state.

His protest had killed over two thousand people. All of whom were innocent. Most of them were unarmed.

The original Knight, Hybald, set a standard for his descendants. Of all the people of his time, Hybald was the most virtuous. He was selfless, kind, just and served his people. He never ruled.

But trying to be a servant like him didn’t erase what Edmund had done. He’d given it a week. It didn’t change anything.

Edmund was born a thief and a Snake. He just...didn’t fit as Knight. He wasn’t meant for that.

Though the ruins had been turned into a dig site, Edmund had been given specific permission to enter whenever he wished.

“Sir Knight.” An archeologist nodded in greeting. Edmund neglected to even look her way.

He climbed down to the ruins via the lift that had been built onto the wall. Ignoring everyone who greeted him, Edmund stepped into the darkness that had yet to be explored.

He stopped in the chamber that used to hold Shadowbane.

“Sir Knight.” Nuth’gu’s raspy voice said as the blue glazed skeleton appeared from the darkness.

“I wish everyone would stop calling me that.” Edmund muttered.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not the Knight. Bronduk made a mistake.” Edmund said, “A Knight is supposed to protect and serve his people. All I’ve caused is death and destruction for my own selfish goals.”

“I see…” Nuth’gu said, “And you wish to retire from your role?”

Edmund nodded.

“I...I would not suggest doing that.”

“Why? Because you still believe that somehow a murderer and a thief deserves to be the savior of the Empire he hates?”

“No.” Nuth’gu sighed, “I was put here long ago by a man whose name I don’t remember. But I know that an accomplice of that man has intentions for you I do not wish to see.”

“Who?” Edmund asked.

“Master Elius.”

Edmund frowned, “Explain. How do you know who that is?”

“Master Elius treads on these grounds quite often. He has since before Shadowbane was placed here. I’ve never watched what he does...but the sounds. The screams are ear piercing.” Nuth’gu hissed, “I’ve heard him mention you while talking to himself down here. Several times.”

“Where does he work?” Edmund asked.

Nuth’gu slammed his bony fist into a metal panel. A piece of the wall sank into it before sliding up to reveal a tunnel lit by some light source in the ceiling.

Edmund glanced at Nuth’gu, then down the tunnel.

“If you wish to investigate, please do so with Shadowbane’s protection.”

Edmund took a deep breath and started down the tunnel.

It seemingly went on for an eternity, the same pattern of metal and glass repeating over and over.

When he reached the end, he was confronted by a metal door. Behind it was likely everything Elius had ever hidden from him.  
________________________________________________

Pasco slowed his running to a stop as he caught up to Edmund at the end of that gods forsaken tunnel. He’d noticed Isley missing.

Pasco heaved and panted like a dog, staring at the metallic floor of the brightly lit room before glancing at his friend.

“Edmund, what in the Abyss? I was looking for you everywhere and they said you came here and I-“ Pasco glanced up, “Gods and Champions…what is all this?”

The room beyond the door was massive. Each of the walls were lined in glass tubes filled to the brim with translucent orange liquid. Suspended in each was a human body. They all varied in age, but they looked...a lot like Edmund

“Pasco...” Edmund said, “Why are you here?”

“I was going to talk to you about...you know...but this seems bigger.”

“This is apparently Elius’s doing…” Edmund’s voice was hollow and somehow more broken than it had been before.

“Elius?”

Edmund took a few shaky steps forward and picked up a small book that laid on a table amongst a scattering of tech, scrolls and files.

“Can you read this?”

Pasco opened the book, “It’s a log book.”

“I figured.” Edmund said.

Pasco opened to the first entry, “‘I am starting this log book to coincide with my experimentation of the human genome, a concept revealed to me by a man called the Physician. Finally, my dream will become a reality. I can create a copy of myself who will be able to wield Shadowbane.’”

Edmund leaned against a nearby desk, his knees starting to buckle.

Pasco flipped to another entry, “‘Copy number seven, I’ve given off to one of my former students, Gyda Isley. I’ve decided to try having a copy raised by parents, as the requirements to wield Shadowbane may be down to a mix of essential and existential qualities. She’s named him Edmund. Though, I cannot allow the subject to grow too attached to his surrogates. That includes the sister.’”

“So...I’m an exact copy...of Elius?” Edmund asked, sickly pale.

“By the gods…” Pasco muttered.

“Elius grew me...he grew me specifically so I could wield Shadowbane for him.” Edmund muttered.

“And this is the proof.” Pasco murmured.

“I’m not even human. I’m not even human and they still died because of me.” Edmund choked up, “The men from the protest, even my own mother and father.”

Pasco sighed, “Edmund...you know I love you like a brother, right?”

“That...doesn’t change this.”

“I’ll consider that a yes. So don’t take this the wrong way. Stop it.”

Edmund looked up at his friend.

“Stop this. For two weeks, all you’ve done is mope, mourn and wallow in self pity.” Pasco said, “Frankly, this all is terrifying to me. But so what? Just because you have Elius’s genes doesn’t make you Elius. Thinking that matters just surrenders to the idea that how you’re born determines who you are, exactly what you hate about Atrellian society.”

“That way of thinking keeps people safe.” Edmund mumbled, “I was wrong to try and change it. Look what happened. Two thousand dead.”

“No, you weren’t! Get over yourself! Not everything’s about you! Other people have their own minds and their own wills.” Pasco exclaimed, “The people of our camp chose to follow you. You didn’t make them. Maybe it was because you were so aloof the whole time, but you clearly didn’t see what the people thought of you. I did! They had hope, Edmund. The only thing you did was give them something to put those hopes in.”

“And I betrayed them!” Edmund roared, pounding on the metal with his fist. His voice rang throughout the room in an echo.

“Did you give the order to kill the Snakes?” Pasco asked, “Did you fire those shots? Did you slit the throats of those men and their families? No! What happened was awful, but the answer isn’t to just cut your losses, lie down and give in. The people of Atrell need your passion more than ever. And you just stole it away.”

“How can you say that? After all those deaths? You saw it with your own eyes. Passion leads to nothing but strife and suffering.” Edmund muttered.

“And apathy is better? The only thing you did wrong was allow the man who did slaughter those people to live.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. They’re all too afraid to revolt, even if I do kill Thorne.”

Pasco gritted his teeth, “Then care about something. Elius killed your family. That’s on him, not you!”

“They weren’t even my real parents. I never had parents.”

“Of course they were your real parents!” Pasco cried, “They raised you. Would you discount all that care and effort simply because you aren’t related by blood. Titans, go and rescue Camilla!”

Edmund’s eyes shot to Pasco, “What?”

“Go rescue Camilla. She dies today, doesn’t she?”

“Pasco, she betrayed us.”

“How? Yes, she was an Emryd spy. But was she planning to kill you in your sleep? Did she try to steal the Clarion stone or Shadowbane from you? No.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that she lied to me!” Edmund growled.

“Look, I get that you used to be a career rogue. You’re always looking for a reason to be paranoid. But I serenade for a living. I know love when I see it, damnit. And the only reason Camilla lied to you is because she wanted you to love her the same way she loves you.” Pasco argued.

Edmund slowly shook his head, “I can’t...I can’t afford to be selfish-”

“We’re all selfish, Isley!” Pasco shouted, “I'm selfish, you’re selfish, Elius is selfish. We organized the Snakes because we hated the Atrellian caste. They did too. Neglecting your desires is pointless. You’ll give into one of them no matter what you do.”

Edmund’s knuckles turned white, gripping his blade.

“You...but, I...no-you can’t-but then...you...you’re right.” Edmund growled as he managed to decide on his sentence, “If I do nothing...I’ll let myself be possessed by what Elius wants me to do.”

“That’s it.” Pasco helped his friend up, “Now what do you want?”

“I want to help the Pious and Snakes revolt.” Edmund said, a renewed sense of determination in his voice, “I want to be with Camilla again. I want Elius to pay for what he’s done.”

“Feel that fire? Focus on it. Take it and use it.” Pasco encouraged.

“I’m going to free Camilla and kill Elius. Then I’m going to kill Thorne and his bureaucrats. I’ll likely die, but…”

“But you’ll still try anyway?”

Edmund nodded, “I’ve been living for myself this whole time. I’ve just been denying it. Well not anymore.”

Pasco grinned, “Now go. Go get what you’re owed. Go write me an epic.”  
_____________________________________________________________

Edmund and Pasco stepped out of the tunnel.

“I see that look in your eye, Sir Knight.” Nuth’gu hissed, “Oh. My apolo-“

“No.” Edmund sighed, “I am the Knight. Just because I’m different from Hybald doesn’t make me less of one. I need your help, Nuth’gu. I intend to kill the man who taught me almost everything I know.”

Nuth’gu nodded, “Then you’ll want the Knight’s ancient Roilplate.”

Nuth’gu placed his hand on the area where the display case that held Shadowbane used to be. The platform sunk into the ground, being replaced by a circular armor stand.

The suit of armor upon it was old in design, but pristine and refurbished.

Edmund started to put it on, piece by piece. A metal brace loosely wrapped around his neck, shielding his throat and extended down his shoulders to create shoulder plates of layered metal lamellar. He strapped metal bracers onto each of his forearms along with fingerless gloves that protected his hands with small plates.

A chestplate of layered metal plates allowed the torso armor to move with him, though its fluidity was still more than he would’ve expected. Two leather belts wrapped around his front with compartments for Godshards and Stims. Lastly, he clamped metal greaves over his boots and took up a small buckler that fit over his left hand with a socket for a crystal of traditional Megyno cut rather than the diamonatic way the God Stones were cut.

“Is a stockpile of raw Megyno Crystals anywhere?” Edmund asked.

Nuth’gu pulled a draw out from the metal wall, pulling out a small crystal with a hexagonal cut, “These crystals are specially attuned to Commural, Kogniirok and Sylvanor. They’ll last you longer.” The crystals glowed faintly in a similar color pattern to the Clarion Stone.

Edmund grabbed a handful of the crystals from the drawer and used Shadowbane’s practically indestructible pommel to crush them up save for one that he shoved into place in the buckler..

“Don’t tell me you’ll be ingesting those raw,” Nuth’gu muttered.

“I need the power boost.” Edmund sighed.

“Eating raw crystals is incredibly bad for your health. They could-“

“Not right now.” Edmund cut the skeleton off, “I don’t much care to know the risks right now.” He turned to Pasco, “I won’t wait up for you, so...thank you. You’re the best friend a man could ask for.”

“See? I told you we’d get along.”

“You did indeed.” Edmund chuckled, smiling a little sadly before bolting off.  
________________________________________

“And so we condemn this soul to the Abyss, where she will rightly serve for her sins against our beloved creator.” Elius preached to the soldiers.

Camilla was tied to a giant stake, surrounded by a pile of wood and tinder. Her blonde hair was dirtied and tangled. Her lip was broken, dried blood smeared down her chin.

 _What did they do to her?_ Edmund’s blood boiled as he watched the public performance of the execution from the crowd, hidden by a cloak’s hood.

“This woman’s deception sowed needless dissent within our ranks, even turning our own Knight against us for a time!” Elius said, “You are right to fear the forces that oppose Bronduk. For if you do not, your trust cannot lie solely with our savior and those who speak on his behalf. Heathens like her will deceive us, lead us from the path that has been set for us and possess us with promises of riches and desires of the flesh. Do not be led astray in pursuit of an illusion of greatness! Rest within the care of Bronduk’s hands and you will find more fulfillment in your path than you ever could in material things!”

 _Easy for someone with your wealth to say._ Edmund gritted his teeth.

“Light the fires!” Elius shouted.

Four soldiers stepped towards Camilla with torches. Edmund couldn’t afford to procrastinate. The more violent and potent energy from the raw Megyno crystals surged through his veins as he cast a Lawfler, propelling himself into the sky. The cloak billowed around him as he cast out a wave of wind that extinguished the torches.

Edmund launched himself forward, landing on the stone platform on which the execution was taking place. He put himself between Camilla and the soldiers.

“Edmund?” Elius gasped.

“You will not kill this woman.” Edmund drew his saber, resting the blade on his shoulder and guarding his face with the buckler as he lowered into a fighting stance, “Not so long as I live.”

“Edmund, you will stop this immediately.” Elius growled quietly.

“Or what? You’ll sic your army of exact copies on me?” Edmund asked.

Elius jerked back, surprised, “How did...The Fallen One.” he growled, “No matter. I’ll just copy your genetic material once I kill you. I’ll raise it myself this time.”

The soldiers with their extinguish torches backed away, confused by their talk and Edmund’s aggression.

“Isley, what the hell are you doing?” Camilla hissed.

“Making sure you don’t become a pile of charred bones.” Edmund said.

Camilla furrowed her brow, looking more...confused than he expected.

But it didn’t matter. Elius didn’t hesitate to attack.

A handful of shrapnel slammed into a large field of energy that surrounded Edmund’s buckler. Edmund charged in with a flurry of swipes and thrusts with Shadowbane. Elius was able to dodge each one thanks to what was likely a Truthfler, but Edmund had the upper hand so long as he kept the pressure on.

Edmund cast his own Truthfler, causing a million shadows of possibility to leap from Elius, as the Archcaster would experience on his end. Edmund ducked as the actual metal shards went flying and swiped at Elius’s legs.

As Edmund stood up straight again, pain pierced his right side and under his arm. He staggered, grunting as blood started to drip from several scratches in his skin. He turned to see three Enforcers approaching.

“Arrest the Knight.” Elius ordered.

Edmund launched himself into the sky with a torrent of air before the Enforcers could press him to the ground.

They fired another volley of shrapnel, but the shards simply bounced off the energy field around Edmund’s buckler.

The Enforcers drew their gladiuses as Edmund landed and engaged him. Edmund parried an overhead strike and slashed at the nearest Enforcer’s side before swinging at the next. His strike was blocked as a blue shadow of a sword swung through his body. Edmund twisted his blade, the curved weapons reaching over his enemy’s shortsword and stabbing him in the throat.

Edmund took the Enforcer’s body and whirled around, throwing it into the third. He followed up by stabbing the Enforcer in the back.

Though, that would provide no relief for him. Edmund was shoved off the execution platform by a gale from Elius’s hand.

Edmund crashed to the dirt seven feet below, rolling to his feet. He was surrounded amongst the crowd by Crusaders, Enforcers and Sparktrackers.

Just like that day.

The Crusaders wasted no time in attacking. Their blades protruding from their wrists, put them at a slight disadvantage in versatility, however. A disadvantage Edmund was prepared to take advantage of. Edmund danced around the mob of Crusaders and Enforcers, keeping just out of reach with his Truthfler and staining Shadowbane in gallons of blood. He no longer cared what he had to do to complete his goal. So long as those he loved were safe.

Edmund lifted his buckler to block a Crusader who’d gone into a leaping strike. The energy field appeared, but shattered as the Crusader’s blade passed through.

_What?_

Edmund still dodged the attack, but the initial hesitation let an Enforcer push him off balance with a blast of wind. Another Crusader tackled him to the ground. Edmund slammed the pommel of his saber into the man’s head and tried to stand up, but was dragged back to the dirt by an Enforcer who’d grabbed hold of his leg.

Edmund yanked his leg in, causing the Enforcer to stumble. He slammed his heel into the Enforcer’s spine, forcing him to let go.

But before he could stand again, yet another Enforcer wrapped his arms around Edmund’s throat and arm in a lock, restricting his main hand. He tried to elbow his attack in the gut, but he only hit thick gambeson and plate armor.

A click sounded from somewhere in the crowd as a crossbow bolt zipped past Edmund, planting itself in the Enforcer’s head.

The body slumped to the ground. The Flerfingers looked back at the crowd of soldiers. A young man no older than sixteen held his crossbow. He stared at Edmund in the eyes with fear and apprehension. His lips quivered as if he wanted to deny it was him.

Edmund gave the boy a resolute and grateful nod.

“For Bronduk!” one man roared, spurring over fifty men to stack up their triangular shields around the boy.

The Pious were kicked into actions, forming ranks and drawing their weapons. The Flerfingers were soon pushed back by a hail of crossbow bolts.

Edmund felt he could spill tears of joy.

Edmund leapt to his feet, glancing up at the platform as Preservers lined it with their tower shields. Elius had a lit torch. The Archcaster looked Edmund dead in the eyes as he tossed it into the pile of timber.

“No!” Edmund launched himself forward, slamming the Clarion Stone in its socket.

Blinding light consumed the field as Edmund gained his wings. He barreled into the Preserver formation and grabbed the stake Camilla was tied to just as the growing flames would’ve licked her shins.

Edmund slowed himself, coming to stop in the air. Camilla struggled within his grasp.

“Edmund, let me down!” she shouted.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Edmund said, cutting her ropes with Shadowbane. Her arms locked around his neck.

“I said let me down!”

“Okay, okay!” Edmund shouted, lowering her to the ground.

“What the shit, Isley!” She snapped the moment her feet touched the sand.

Edmund jerked back.

“What’s wrong?” Edmund asked.

“What’s wrong? Why the hell did you pull this stunt? For what?” Camilla yelled.

“I...I thought you’d be more thankful.”

“Thankful? I didn’t ask you to save me!” she shouted, “Just like I didn’t ask you to throw me in prison!”

“Throw you in prison? Me?” Edmund asked.

“Yes you, fool!”

“I didn’t turn you in!” Edmund argued.

“Bullshit!” Camilla said, “You’re the only one who knew.”

“Listen, can we talk about this later?” Edmund asked, “I already have a lot on my plate.”

“No, we cannot talk about this later. If you fly away, I won’t be here when you come back.” Camilla growled.

Edmund sighed, “Listen, I didn’t turn you in. Who knows who else was listening? I just found out that I’m a genetically artificial copy of Elius and I kinda wanna deal with all this one thing at a time, so sorry if I’m currently leading an uprising. I’m only human.”

Camilla’s expression morphed from angry to...well, less angry, “Wait. Really?”

Edmund nodded.

“Oh...I-um...okay.” Camilla muttered sheepishly, “We can talk later.”

“Thank you.” Edmund nodded to her before launching into the air on his wings.

He flew back towards the battle. Enforcers were firing shrapnel from behind the Preservers’ shields.

Though, to their credit, some flerfingers had joined the side of the Pious. Unfortunately, the reverse was also true.

Edmund landed in front of the Pious ranks and pushed back a volley of metal shards. Being taught Atrellian tactics, both sides had taken to creating a defensive formation and just pelting each other with ranged weapons.

Edmund allowed his wings to vanish as he raised his saber into the air, “Pious! Break from your wall! With me!”

Several brazen men broke off from their formations, spears in hand.

Edmund roared a battlecry as he launched himself into the Preserver’s ranks a second time, disrupting the shield wall.

The Pious clambered onto the platform and began fighting with the flerfingers. Elius was nowhere to be seen.

Then, a horn bellowed from the keep. An attack? No. That was the retreat signal.

The flerfingers dissolved their ranks and withdrew from the plaza, heading towards the keep.

Edmund ran after them, the present Pious in tow. He nearly got to the door before the Portcullis slammed down.

Arrows and shards of metal started to rain down from the towers and parapets.

The Pious hid under their shields.

“Withdraw and regroup! Get everyone willing to fight!” Edmund ordered, “I’m going to break through from the inside!”

“Sir!” The soldiers shouted before withdrawing towards further parts of the camp.

Edmund summoned his wings once more and launched himself into the air, rising above the keep. He landed on its roof, blasting the door located up there off its hinges. Crusaders were already there waiting for him.

But Edmund slammed them against the wall of a staircase with a Lawfler, sending them tumbling down the steps. He descended to the fourth floor, faced with several battle-ready flerfingers.

Edmund drew a Megyno crystal from a pouch on his belt and pushed it into place on his buckler, before raising his guard.

The Enforcers didn’t hesitate to start firing shrapnel at him. Edmund dashed forward, his buckler providing protection from the onslaught of projectiles.

With quick flashes of metal, flerfingers were cut down like crops of a hungry farmer.

Crusaders leapt at him, wielding two, three or even four blades made from their blood. But all were unmatched by the sheer force of will that guided his blade.

His hands were a flurry of dexterity and force, pushing and pulling on his saber, twisting it to slot perfectly into his opponents’ organs.

Edmund sprung off of a Crusader, tossing crushed Megyno dust into his mouth, replenishing his reserves with the more raw and powerful unrefined energy.

He unleashed a storm of gale force, shattering the few windows on the floor and tossing the flerfingers before him back ten feet.

Edmund wasted no time with them as they staggered to their feet. He slipped into another stairwell, landing on the third floor. Elius was either here or the second floor. No way in the Abyss he’d stay on the first even if the portcullis was down.

Edmund exited onto the third floor. It was once again swarmed by flerfingers and loyalists to the general.

“You.” a deep voice growled. General Thorne pushed his way through the ranks of flerfingers, “You stupid, stupid boy. You’ve done nothing but ruin me and bring me shame!”

“Since when did the ever-pious Atrellians care about reputation?” Edmund asked.

“Don’t kid yourself! We’re humans.”

“Then you shouldn’t have lied in the first place.” Edmund growled.

“I’m killing this one.” Thorne unclasped and tossed aside his white cape.

The flerfingers backed away, providing ample space for Edmund and Thorne to battle. Thorne crossed his arms, metal plates starting to form on his skin. He was turning his sweat into armor.

Thorne held his hand out, allowing a long, double-edged blade to grow out of his wrist and over the back of his hand.

From his other arm, four spikes of iron shot out on his forearm in a cross shape before blood congealed around it, forming a small round shield about twice as big as Edmund’s buckler.

Thorne lowered into a wide stance, balancing on the balls of his feet, his sword tip touching the ground.

The general attacked first, coming at Edmund with wide, sweeping arcs in almost a dance-like swordplay style. Edmund rushed in as he swung from overhead, knocking into Thorne and delivering three quick swipes with his saber. Each was perfectly blocked by Thorne’s shield.

Edmund unleashed an unrelenting amount of wind towards him, Thorne braced against it, using his Warfler to drag stone brick from the floor to his boots, rooting him in place.

A minor, yet important positioning ability Crusaders had, though it was rarely used. Edmund wouldn’t be able to knock him off his feet unless he was caught by surprise or he was in the air.

Thorne sprang from his position and slammed his shield into Edmund’s jaw, causing the boy to stagger. The general took the opening and slashed upwards with his blade. Though his weapon clashed with metal plate before it could do any harm.

Edmund and Thorne traded blows with their swords, but Thorne was too experienced a swordsman and Edmund’s skill with his flers compensated for his lacking swordsmanship.

Edmund slid to a stop, heaving. His buckler’s crystal was almost shattered. He likely wouldn’t have time to replace it.

But Thorne was starting to look exhausted as well. Warflers took body fluids. So did fighting with many pounds of iron grafted to your skin. He was starting to dehydrate. One of the major reasons Crusaders were only ever used as shock troops.

“If it weren’t for your flers, I would’ve skewered you.” Thorne growled.

“If it weren’t for you massacring the Snakes, you wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of failing to do so.” Edmund huffed.

“Die!” Thorne roared, swinging his blade horizontally.

Edmund parried and almost pierced Thorne’s swipe on the return.

“I can tell you’re fatigued.” Edmund said, “A few more minutes of this and you’ll black out from thirst.”

Thorne released his weapons and armor from his body, “You’re right…”

“Surrendering, huh?”

Thorne burst into a sprint, his skin bursting into flames. Edmund only had time to widen his eyes in surprise before being tackled to the ground. The flames extinguished as Thorne locked his arms around Edmund.

“I’ll kill you slowly and painfully if it's the last thing I do.” Thorne growled. Edmund felt something sharp poke at him.

Metal spikes were starting to protrude from all around Thorne’s body like an iron maiden. Edmund strained in agony as he struggled to no avail. The spines started stabbing into his exposed skin. His plate armor protected his vitals, but as Thorne stabbed him with twenty more spikes by wrapping his legs around Edmund’s abdomen, he felt as though he could fall unconscious from the pain.

Shadowbane had fallen out of his grasp, but it wasn’t too far.

Edmund screamed as he reached, the slightest movement tearing through inches of his dermis. Hot blood burned his skin as it was pumped out by the boatload through over thirty wounds.

Thorne constricted around him more tightly. Edmund could feel the edge of the hilt with the tips of his fingers. But the Clarion Stone was too far.

WHACK!

Something slammed into Thorne’s head, loosening his grip. Edmund took the mobility gratefully and tapped the Clarion Stone, summoning his wings. The new body mass forced him upwards, but he had to collapse in a heap with all the wounds on his body.

Edmund craned his neck up to see Camilla there, still in her prisoner’s rags, but holding the Kynareth. Camilla stabbed Thorne in the throat, his blood adding to the already massive pool of Edmund’s.

Edmund’s breath was getting thin. His vision was starting to fade.

“Oi! The person who pays your salaries is dead! Can I get a Preserver for this idiot?” Camilla’s voice rang through the encroaching darkness.

Then, Edmund swallowed a deep breath, light returning to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut as his mind became alert again. But his wounds were gone.

A female Preserver stood over him, her hands glowing a soft white.

Camilla directed the angle of his head back to her, “Do you have some kind of death wish?”

“I did last week. But, no.” Edmund smiled.

Camilla rolled her eyes, “What were thinking going up against a whole damn army of flerfingers on your own? You’re lucky I can’t resist you. No matter how much I spent the last week cursing your name.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Camilla sighed as she helped him to his feet, “You still have an Archcaster to kill. No use wasting your life on this sod.”

“He was still worth killing.” Edmund winced. He was still in pain, but at least wasn’t losing anymore blood.

“Now get out of our way if you want to continue living.” Camilla said to the flerfingers, “You’d be facing two Champions of the Gods.”

“Have any God Shards?” Edmund asked.

“I picked some off one of the flerfingers who joined your side.” she said, patting a tin on her belt.

Edmund picked up his saber and took a deep breath.

“Do you think I’ll be able to do it?” Edmund asked.

“Do what?”

“Kill Elius.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“I found out that Elius used genetics to...make me. Grow me in a tube. There are thirty or so just like me in a hidden room in the ruin.” Edmund said, “I’m an exact copy of him. Except he’s more experienced.”

“You’re far from an exact copy, Edmund.” Camilla placed a hesitant, but gentle hand on his shoulder, “I’m still...conflicted on several things regarding you. But I’m certain of a few. First among those is that no matter how much you may be like Elius in blood, you are nothing like him in soul. You lived differently, you chose differently. The choices we make form us. Not the way we’re born. That’s why you fight Atrell, isn’t it?”

Edmund’s grip tightened on his saber, “You’re right. I already had this conversation. My stupid doubts won’t give me a break. Watch my back?”

“For now.” Camilla muttered noncommittally.

Edmund descended to the second floor.

As expected, Elius had moved away from the portcullis. He was accompanied by the vast majority of the flerfingers hidden within the keep. The Archcaster turned to them.

“Everything I’ve done up to this point was for you…” Elius growled, “And yet you repaid me with shame and disobedience. I refuse to withstand this any longer.”

“Stop acting like some kind of victim, bastard.” Edmund gritted his teeth, “Thorne is dead. You’re next.”

Murmurs started to spread amongst Elius’s men.

“Silence!” Elius commanded his soldiers, “Kill the Knight.”

“But-” a Crusader spoke up.

“Peace.” Elius said calmly, “Bronduk is on your side.”

“But he’s Bronduk’s hand.” the Crusader argued.

Elius let out an exasperated sigh under his breath, “Just do it. He can’t defeat all of you. Leadership falls to me if Thorne is dead. Would you deny your commanding officer?”

“No, sir.” the Crusader answered, a lot more calm in his voice.

Edmund frowned at the shift in demeanor. A Lawfler?

“I’ve gotten through two floors.” Edmund said, “You think I’ll show mercy to you? Back down and I won’t hurt you. In fact, join me and I’ll ensure you still have a place here after all this is done.”

Edmund surged his Lawfler, trying to dampen the complacence and sense of duty in each man. But Elius was pacifying their defiance.

It really came down to what the men would have chosen had they not been affected.

Some of the men hesitantly stepped forward, turning to face Elius from behind Edmund and Camilla.

“Better yet,” Edmund said, “Let me fight Elius and any risk to you will be null. His is the only head I want.”

Enforcers, Sparktrackers, Crusaders, Seekers and Preservers looked between each other, nervous.

“Don’t let him manipulate you.” Elius said smoothly, “Draw your weapons and kill him. Make sure he knows the peace of death.”

Without a second of hesitation, the men still on Elius’s end drew or bared their weapons. No Lawfler could convince someone whose mind was contested that quickly. Was it raw energy? 

No, then he would be able to just command them practically without question.

Edmund readied himself, “Welcome to the revolution, soldiers!” he said to the men who had joined him, “You fight for freedom of all peoples, including yourselves! Now would be an appropriate time to do so!”

Leading by example, Edmund barreled into the sea of flerfingers. He pushed a chunk of them back with a powerful blast of wind.

The flerfingers on Edmund’s side drew their weapons and helped him engage.

Edmund swam through a swirling storm of steel clashing with steel and shrapnel flying everywhere.

He caught a break as the soldiers under him surged forward. Edmund used the time to grab a small bottle of golden liquid off his belt. He down the syrup-like stimulus, filling his body with energy that synthesized the three wells he could access.

He activated his Brondumancy. His Finest Hour, he thought on impulse.

Finest Hour. He liked that.

Willpower surged through him like Megyno energy, but was converted directly into his strength, flexibility and alertness. All those that fought with him and those who waited anxiously outside fueled his muscles.

His mind only repeated the one thing all the different people who fought with him had in common. They wanted freedom.

As golden energy poured from his eyes, Edmund roared and leapt back into the fray, dispatching soldier after soldier with startling efficiency. He almost didn’t need the predicting powers of his Truthfler. His reaction time was nearly instantaneous.

The thrill of combat joined his Flerish in fueling him. He could see Elius. Hiding in the back and using a Faithfler to strengthen his men.

But the added strength was no match for him when it was so widespread.

Everything around Edmund seemed to move in slow motion. Armor chinks showed themselves as if asking to be cut. Momentum of each body moved as if wanting him to redirect it. Yet it was all a blur at the same time.

Slash, flip, blast, bash, kick, slam, slash, stab, thrust, twist, parry. Again and again and again. And with each man defeated, Elius drew closer.

Edmund let loose a blast of wind from his palms, angle behind him. He crashed through the last few ranks of Preservers, falling into a confident stride towards Elius.

Edmund sprinted at Elius, sword bared.

Then, the world turned upside down as an immense torrent of wind flattened him to the ceiling. The impact forced Shadowbane from Edmund’s hands.

The power of Elius’s flers completely blind sided him.

Yes, he was an Archcaster. Yes, he had much more time with his flers than Edmund. But that shouldn’t have made a difference in how much force was behind his Lawfler. Lawflers were Lawflers. You wanted more power, you burned more energy.

The force needed to soften a landing alone was great. Even great was propelling yourself upwards. But lifting someone else? And pinning them? That amount of Megyno energy could only be harvested from one of those Morgaul overloading bombs.

Edmund strained to flip his palms so they would face the ceiling. He pushed with his own Lawfler, powered by raw Megyno. But to no avail.

How? How was he so strong?

Edmund viciously attacked Elius on an arcane level, forcefully cracking his fler and letting himself down.

Edmund rolled, picking up his saber and sprung up into a strike. Elius pushed himself backwards on air blasts from his feet before throwing forward handfuls of shrapnel.

The power behind them propelled the bits of metal faster than Edmund could see. Several pieces clanged off his armor, while others tore straight through his gambeson or cut his less armored areas.

Edmund glanced down at his chestplate. It was dented.

He looked up at Elius, apprehensive.

“Understand yet, boy? Some of us, like me, were born for greatness. Others were born to serve.” Elius growled, “When will that lesson get through your thick skull!”

“Greatness? You’ve done nothing but chase after a rock for decades! Do you think that somehow holding this sword will make you happy?”

“Of course it will.” Elius said, “Only the greatest men have ever held it.”

“Then that makes me a greater man than you.” Edmund and Elius started to circle each other.

“But I am you.” Elius said, “As you are me.”

“But I’m not. I guided my own fate.” Edmund said, “I’ve lived differently from you. And my choices make me a greater man.”

“You know not the meaning of greatness, boy.”

“What’s your obsession with that anyway? Why are you chasing a stupid status symbol to show your greatness?” Edmund asked, “What in the Abyss has possessed your mad head to manufacture human beings just to hold a sword on your behalf? If you really wanted to be great, you’d use that ambition for a real reason.”

“Who are you to say what is real and what is not when it comes to ambition?” Elius asked, “Ambition itself is an evil in Bronduk’s eyes. One he will forgive me for later.”

“By the simple fact that I find it disgusting.” Edmund snarled.

“You’ve no right to pass judgement on me!” Elius launched another handful of shrapnel.

Edmund flattened himself against the ground as the shards flew overhead.

He stood and slashed at Elius’s chest, using a blast of air to close the distance between them. Crimson sprayed from the wound as Elius stumbled backwards onto the ground.

In defense, Elius launched Edmund against the wall opposite to the staircase he’d come down to this floor on.

Edmund smashed through the stone bricks, flying out of the keep. He pressed his palm to the Clarion Stone, righting himself in the air with his angel wings.

He was about to launch himself back into the fray, but paused. How was he going to avoid just getting shunted out a wall again?

 _Isn’t it obvious? Use the stone._ A female voice echoed in his head.

Edmund wildly glanced around, but found no one, “Who is that?”

_I am Nadriel, body of Shadowbane and soul of the Clarion Stone._

“Nadriel? You were Hybald’s angel lover, weren’t you?” Edmund frowned.

_It’s a bit more complex than that, I’d say…_

“Why...why are you in my sword?”

_‘Your sword’ is forged from my bones, while my spirit was placed inside the Clarion Stone to guard it. It’s the reason you can summon those live-saving wings._

Edmund shook his head, “As weird as this is, I don’t have time for many questions. Can you help me?”

_Yes. I can act as a second awareness, watching your back. That, and I can help you understand my powers._

“I would’ve led with the second thing…” Edmund muttered.

Elius staggered up to the Edmund-sized hole in the wall.

_You better explain to me quickly! Edmund shouted in his mind._

_I can give you a combat analysis, given time. You’ll have to engage with him before I can evaluate your options._ Nadriel said. _In the meantime, do what you did when you first picked me up. This weapon is excellent at stalling for time. You can cause brief episodes of incorporeality and charge up kinetic energy from blows you deflect. It should all come naturally._

Edmund flapped his wings, sending himself at Elius. The Archcaster launched a handful of metal pellets his way. With only his will, Edmund allowed the pellets to blast through his form, leaving trails of mist behind as they left his body.

He became solid again as his knee rocketed towards Elius. The Archcaster expertly evaded, despite his wound. Edmund whirled around, doling out a quick succession of strikes. Only the last one nicked Elius’s arm.

Edmund went to swing once more before Elius closed the distance, tightly gripping Edmund’s sword arm and staring hard into his eyes.

 _…Wait. What was I doing again? I was...I was…_ Edmund blinked in confusion. His task and his purpose fading away form his mind. The harder he tried to remember it, the further away it slipped.

He furrowed his brow, focused on trying to catch his train of thought. Before pain blossomed in the back of his head when his skull was smashed against a stone wall. Edmund remembered everything in an instant once the pain arrived, but it was too late.

He’d dropped his blade and Elius had him by the hair. The old man slammed his knee into Edmund brow, making his vision go red. Ringing reached his ears, an incessant noise that further distracted him.

In the corner of his vision, Edmund saw Camilla leap over Elius, dagger poised to strike. Elius looked directly into her eyes. The eye contact caused her to suddenly fall limp.

“Wh...what the…” Edmund croaked.

“Not even the Saint-Minister herself is immune to my flerish, boy.” Elius cackled, “I will ensure that you know...peace.”

Upon the word being spoken, Edmund’s sensations and thoughts started to drift away again.

They all returned with another spike of pain in his gut as Elius whacked Edmund in the ribs with his wooden quarterstaff.

 _Everytime he looks into your eyes or says peace, he steals your consciousness away!_ Nadriel cried in his head, _Don’t let him-_

“Peace.” Elius whispered.

Edmund’s mind went blank once again, all feeling, sights and sounds vanishing.

One string of words existed in his mind that he could understand.

“Walk to the ledge.”

Edmund wasn’t even sure if he followed the command or not. That was all he knew in that moment, the summary of his existence.

 _No!_ He roared in his head. _You have a greater purpose! You know you do!_

He didn’t know in his mind, but he knew in his soul. The deep caverns within him that made up the person known as Edmund Isley.

Edmund blinked himself back to consciousness, staring down at the sand two keep floors below. He whirled around, catching Elius’s boot as it tried to shove him over. Edmund gritted his teeth and pulled the Archcaster, throwing him out the hole in the wall.

Edmund sprinted for his blade

He picked up the sword and jumped from the hole in the wall, summoning his wings. He was just in time to catch Elius’s return path.

Elius roared in pain as Edmund’s saber carved across the Archcaster’s head. Elius whirled around, suspending himself in the air with torrents of wind.

Edmund and Elius were merciless with their combat, seeking with each strike, a lethal blow. The time for disabling and slowing the opponent was past. Neither was in the shape to spend such time.

Edmund refused to let Elius activate his flerish again, never letting up in his offensive.

But much to Edmund’s dismay, Elius had another trick up his sleeve. As Edmund went to strike again, Elius allowed himself to drop in the air, shouting, “Peace!”

Edmund came to an instant later to watch Shadowbane fall from his grip and Elius’s hands wrap around his throat.

Elius’s face contorted in rage as his grip around Edmund’s airway tightened. But they quickly softened.

Elius reached up and ripped out a few of Edmund’s hairs, “This should be enough to make a new one. Goodbye, failure.”

And like that, Edmund was subjected to the winds of fate. Elius launched the both of them high above the keep before simply dropping Edmund.

He was dead. Just like that. Not enough energy to break his fall. All he had was about a tenth of a Godshard’s worth of power and a few seconds of power from his stim. Those seconds couldn’t even be used for anything aside from the venom. He had no control.

Or...did he?

Elius flew himself back to the second floor, passing Edmund’s terminal velocity. He might have enough to close the distance. It was his only chance at survival.

Edmund unleashed every last drop of Megyno Energy he could spend on a Lawfler. The short, but powerful blast of wind set his trajectory definitively sideways.

Sideways just enough to tackle Elius out of the air. But the tackle wasn’t enough to guide them through the second story hole. They wouldn’t make it.

Elius and Edmund grappled with each other, the younger punching the older square in the nose before stealing a Godshard.

But before Edmund could put it in his mouth, Elius gripped his arm. The old man was intent on taking Edmund with him.

Edmund drew on the three or four seconds of flerishal power he had and jabbed his fingers into Elius’s throat. The Archcaster let go immediately to clutch the wound.

Edmund ate the Godshard and used the entire thing to soften his landing to a mildly painful thump.

Elius, with his wealth of power, was able to land smoothly and perfectly. But for all that Megyno energy, Edmund had still struck him.

Elius uncovered his wound, staring at the black ichor that dripped from his neck. His hand quivered as his breathing started to quicken.

“You...you...how? How is this possible?” Elius murmured, “How could you...kill me?”

Elius stumbled to the ground as his veins started to turn black under his skin. The corners of his mouth started to foam as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Edmund sighed, “Because I have a real reason to live. The best you could do was a rock.”

“Gods damn you…” Elius sputtered out in his death throes, “Gods damn you to the Abyss…”

And after that final word, Archcaster Elius did the world a courtesy...and stopped breathing. For good.


	29. Chapter 28: True Weakness

Gammond’s eyes snapped open.

But not to a bed or an infirmary. Not even to a room. Or anything.

He awoke standing in the middle of an endless void, swirling with bluish mist. This was the Roil. Or at least, how it had been depicted.

“H-hello?” Gammond called out. His voice echoed amongst the emptiness.

“Gammond Hross.” a voice boomed.

Gammond whirled around, turning to a human face far larger than his own body. He stumbled backwards, with a yelp.

It was a man’s face, covered in creases and wrinkles, long black hair and a beard. Though, his skin was a vivid blue color.

“W-what in the Abyss?” Gammond cried.

“Please calm yourself.” the man said. Though when he spoke, his mouth never moved.

Though, the face wasn’t alone. It had a body. The body of a lion. Separated by a large metal headdress, was a powerful, similarly blue and proportionally huge lion’s body. Furthermore, a giant pair of bird wings extended from the creature’s back.

“What are you?” Gammond asked.

“I am called the Archivist. Your people refer to my kind as Sphinxes.”

“The Archivist...I’ve heard your name somewhere before.” Gammond muttered, “The...the Scholar. You served under the Scholar, didn’t you?”

The sphinx nodded.

“Why am I here? Is this the Roil?”

“No.” The Archivist said, “However, it is similar to the Roil. This space resides within the realm of the human subconscious.”

Gammond blinked, “I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means.”

“You are in a coma in the physical world. This is the only means by which I can communicate with you.” the sphinx said.

“But why do you need to communicate with me?” Gammond asked.

“Two reasons. You have been betrayed, Gammond Hross.”

“Betrayed?”

“Your Consulate, which you and your fellow Consuls worked to make an effective and fair governing system, has been overthrown from the inside.” the Archivist said.

“By who?”

“I cannot say. But what I can offer is a solution. You see, Opion refuses to select a Champion. So, being that I was personally moved by your strides in creating your government, I would like to offer you this.”

The Archivist’s eyes glowed blue as a flash of light appeared before him. As the flash faded, a perfectly cut stone hovered within space.

“Is that…” Gammond started.

“This is the Brilliance Stone. It will allow you to overcome the tyranny in your country.”

“What of the Cerberus Project? The Scholar’s weapon?” Gammond dared to ask.

“There is no Cerberus Project.” The Archivist said, “Nor is there a Brilliance Stone.”

Gammond frowned, “What?”

“I am not in the possession of the Brilliance Stone. Your enemy Caze is.”

“Right…” Gammond recalled.

“And every Scholar has created their own Cerberus Project. It is always changing and always suits the wielder’s personal abilities. Nevertheless, I offer you my blessing to be Champion.” the Archivist said.

“I...I see.” Gammond said, “Can you really just decide that, though?”

“In reality, so long as someone possesses the stone and is the right kind of flerisher, any man, woman or child can become a Champion.” the Archivist said, “The only choosing that occurs is the wielder’s choice.

Gammond blinked, in deep consideration. He hesitated before answering, “I accept your offer.”

“I am glad to hear it, Scholar.” the sphinx said, “I cannot heal you, but when you awake, I will be there, as will the Brilliance Stone.”

Gammond nodded.

“Whatever you do, you cannot allow Emreth to become another Atrell.”

With that, Gammond’s consciousness vanished and he returned to his state of sleep.  
_______________________________________________________________________

There was no coronation. There was no festival. There was no time given for the people to react to Lara’s new status as Empress of Emreth. All the evidence that the change was even made was the fact that she now marched north at the head of Emreth’s armies and the simple golden circlet she wore atop her head.

The Cult of Tialeis was left to help the people adjust to the sudden transition. To help, she hadn’t been so bold as to abolish the Consulate. They just held no power anymore.

She sat atop a dark-hair mare, keeping pace with her infantry. They were her infantry now. A part of her couldn’t believe what she’d done, full of mixed emotions of betrayal and solemn determination. The other part of her focused only on her goals. Unite Emreth. Stop Caze.

Nothing stood in her way anymore.

About four days, the armies of Emreth had marched through the seperatist kingdom, only raiding villages for food and stopping to capture scouts. Aside from that, they covered as much ground as they could each day on the direct path towards the seperatist capital of Krofaj.

The city was built in a valley that ran through the Nordtham Mountains. The Emryds would have a high ground to rain destruction over its walls.

Each infantryman had been equipped with a new official gun model meant to pierce armor called a Blimsvok or just “fire bow”.

Conquest over the meager two-territory kingdom would be easy.

Lara glanced up. The sun was about three fingers from setting. They were close enough to the city to enact their plan tonight.

“Halt!” She commanded, “We camp here for tonight!”

The soldiers gave her a diligent unison cry, “Une!”

Lara dismounted her steed and entered her large tent as it was set up.

“Your imperial majesty,” Thekela muttered from the flaps of her tent.

Thekela was in full support of a monarchist return and was the only high ranking member of the previous military structure not in a hospital bed.

Lara had extended a careful trust to her in organizing the army, given her previous experience.

“What is it?” Lara asked.

“Are you certain we should not have been focusing on taking down other military outposts? We could have weakened the enemy severely.” Thekela said.

“We don’t have time for such stops.” Lara said, “Besides, it’d be pointless. They’ve holed up every man they have inside those walls.”

“That’s not a good thing, your majesty.”

“It is if you’re me.” Lara muttered, “With any luck, this army won’t even have to lay siege to Krofaj.”

“What do you mean?” Thekela furrowed her brow before adding a quick, “If I may ask that of you.”

“I intend to fly in there with a swarm of Nightprinces and either force the king to hand over his lands or raze the entire city.” Lara said, “I’ve already sent a messenger ahead.”

“Then, what’s the point of bringing all these troops?” Thekela asked.

“After we take the Kingdom, we will take the Nordtham mountain pass to the Nordanian port city of Laegsterheim.” Lara explained, “We will take boats to Morgaul. That is where I’ll need the army.”

Thekela blinked, “To Morgaul? You never said we were going to Morgaul, your majesty.”

“If we want a home to return to after this war, we must. The former King Regent still holds the Cruelty Stone and with it, he threatens to release the Titans once again.” Lara summarized.

“How...how is that possible?”

“You’ll see for yourself when we get there.” Lara answered.

“Of course. Your majesty, there’s just one last question I have.” Thekela muttered.

“Yes?”

“It’s still early spring.” said Thekela, “And while that means we can march our armies about here on the Peninsula, Nordania and the Nordtham mountains are still very much frozen. How are we going to transport an army through there?”

“We will just have to suffer the losses.” Lara said.

Thekela opened her mouth to respond, but wisely stayed silent.

“Thank you, majesty.” she bowed.

Lara watched as the Tialemancer left her tent. She had a point. Lara knew there would be severe risks taking the mountain pass this time of year. But they had no time.

Among her things, Lara had brought a large crate with her, full of everything she had on Caze and Vancen.

More research needed to be done.

Lara opened the trunk and grabbed a leatherbound notebook and flipped to the most recently used page, detailing more of Caze’s formulas and equations that allowed her to zero in on an area in Northern Morgaul called the Origin Lands.

She managed to create armor piercing rounds for the Blimsvok models in case they ran into Titanspawn again. That ammunition should have enough punch to break through their metal carapace.

Lara looked over her notes. Killing Caze would pose a significant challenge. If he worked at all like the way ancient writers described the Titanspawn, everything up to his epidermis would regenerate.

While normal Titanspawn could be killed by destroying their brains and had exoskeletons with only partial metal skeletons holding their limbs together. Caze, who looked human in every sense, more clearly matched the descriptions of higher ranked Titanspawn.

She found a book of an old Ansami account when Vancen had first created the Abyss, the hellish realm in which Titanspawn were brewed. Apparently, it was meant to be a place to cure Megysis. There were supposedly ranks to their horde. The higher rank a Titanspawn was, the more sentient they were.

The highest rank below Titan, æpäwensva, were essentially perfect human mimics, save for the metal skeleton and regenerating skin.

 _How to kill a metal man with healing skin?_ Lara thought to herself.

She considered just melting him, but the sample of Ansami metal that the Emryds had couldn’t be melted by even the hottest Nihilfler.

_Well...I don’t really have to kill him, do I?_

Caze needed all ten God Stones to open a portal. As far as she knew, he only had nine, the Clarion Stone evading his reach. She’d thought about just playing keepaway with one of the stones, but she lacked a solid plan for it.

Wouldn’t Edmund Isley be the one carrying the Clarion Stone? That was a name she hadn’t heard for a long time. In a way, it was all up to him to protect the world until someone could kill Caze.

But Caze would be relentless. Edmund was on the Morgaul front, last she knew. If he was still there, it could be bad. But if the Atrellians had been smart enough to lock him up with the Saint-Minister…

“Your majesty.” a man’s voice murmured, causing Lara to perk up.

He was a Preserver, followed by two apprentices who carried Gammond’s body in their arms.

“We set about another round of tests. We probed for that...Megysis you told us about, but found no signs of a disease. If anything, our best theory is a sort of poison we can’t detect or cure.” the Preserver said.

Lara nodded, “Set him on a cot.”

The apprentices obeyed before leaving behind their master.

She sighed. It probably wasn’t the best idea to take Gammond with her. But she wouldn’t feel secure unless he was with her.

She was the one who knew the most about Megysis and Caze. While she had the Preservers look for anything they could find in case it wasn’t Megysis, no one could really help him but her.

That being said, her knowledge on Megysis was pitifully small.

Lara brought a chair over to the cot and sat next to Gammond. She sighed, “Oh, Gam. If only you could see what I’ve done.”

She laid her head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body and listening to his slow, somewhat labored breath.

“I just hope you’ll one day wake up emperor of a reunited Emreth.” She muttered to herself.

“Your majesty!” a soldier saluted her.

Lara jerked upright, “What is it?”

The soldier held up the head of the messenger she’d sent.

Lara checked her pocket watch. 

“Well. What perfect timing. It’s about time we start our siege.” she muttered, leaving the tent.

If anything, it was easier than expected.

Only a few minutes after the sun had set, Lara rode on the back of a single Nightprince while three others wreaked havoc down below. To say the separatists were ill-prepared was an understatement. But then again, no army really prepared for an aerial attack that came in the middle of the night.

Though of course, Lara would be the one to topple the king herself.

Her Nightprince swooped down the stone castle on the edge of the city, letting her onto one of the many battlement-littered towers that rose from the mountainside.

Lara kicked the wooden door open and calmly descended the spiral staircase to the central keep’s lowest floor.

Huddled refugees and high ranking officials all whirled around to gaze upon her.

“Would any of you be so kind as to point me in the direction of your king?” Lara asked through the silence.

They all could only stare at her, wide-eyed.

“Don’t make me have to start killing you off.” Lara sighed.

One brave man marked by an eye made of blue paint upon his forehead stepped forward. He was an Oromancer, a flerfinger with the ability to access Commural, Kogniirok and Impetellas.

They were tricky fighters.

“You’re nothing but a tyrant.” the Oromancer growled, “The king was right about your Consulate. It was just a stepping stone for a dictator.”

Lara didn’t respond to the man’s comments and instead launched the dart of her whip towards him. The Oromancer bent over his back in a flashy dodge, but Lara simply shot it out a second time, piercing his rib cage.

She drew the dart back as blood spilled from the man’s chest cavity.

“Anyone else want to challenge a Champion?”

Their eyes wide with terror, everyone else in the room looked to the officials. They hesitantly pointed towards the throne in the middle of the hall.

Lara glanced back. It must’ve been a secret compartment or something.

“You open it.” She pointed at an official.

The woman wasted no time hurrying towards the back of the throne. She unlatched a small wooden trapdoor on the ground behind the throne.

Inside was the king, his wife and his children crammed inside.

Lara didn’t hesitate to wrap her whip around the king’s throat and drag him out, ignoring the cries and protests of his family.

She dragged him in front of his people then pulled him to his feet.

“How should I make a show of you?” Lara asked.

“P-please, please just let me go. I’ll give you my lands like you asked!” the King cried. Coward.

“You refused my offer earlier. I would’ve thought someone bold enough to deny me strong enough to uphold their decision to the e-” Lara was cut off as something clanged against her armor. She glanced down at a young boy, no older than eleven or twelve, fruitlessly attempting to ram a dagger through her Roilplate. The King’s son?

“Let! My! Father! Go!” the child cried in time with the stabs of his dagger.

Lara kicked the child aside dismissively, sending him skidding across the ground.

“Lars!” the king gasped.

But the child wouldn’t relent, even after his mother and sister tried to hold him back.

Lara sidestepped the head-on charge the boy started.

He came to a stop and turned to Lara, face contorted in rage.

“You’re a brave man, Lars.” Lara mused.

“Shut up! I’ll kill you!”

“That so?” Lara grinned, “Very well, I’ll take your challenge.”

“You’d duel a child?” the king exclaimed.

“He’s more of a man than you are.” Lara scoffed, tangling the end of her whip around the king’s throat even further, “Listen here, boy. You’ve got three minutes to stop me from pricking my finger on this spike on my handle here. If blood gets on it, blades will shoot out and stab your father in the throat.”

Lara placed her index finger over the spike, giving her scab-covered thumb a break.

Needless to say, the boy stood no chance. Lara simply evaded every swipe and stab he made. Upon the three minute mark, she stepped away from an attempted swipe, revealing the whip handle in her palm.

The boy cut his hand on the handle’s spike, dropping his knife and sending a myriad of blades into his father’s throat.

The king’s son collapsed in a heap, horrified and shocked.

Lara retracted her whip from the dead king, “You know, I was willing to give you more time had you not cut yourself. Oh well. I suggest you all evacuate. I’m not responsible for what my soldiers are going to do for the next day or so.”

Lara grabbed the crown off the king’s head and tossed it like a discus into the dark corner of the throne room as she took her rightful spot on the throne.

At long last, Emreth was reunified once again. In hindsight, it could have taken much longer had the Consulate remained in power. There was nothing and no one left in Emreth to oppose her power.

It wasn’t long before Thekela made it to the throne room with the rest of the army.

She knelt before Lara, “Your imperial majesty, what are your orders?”

“Keep as small a force as possible to keep control over the city.” Lara said, “The rest will move out tomorrow.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Thekela affirmed before leaving.

Even though she’d just conquered Emreth, Lara had no choice but to pin her sights on Morgaul. And the insatiability was...comforting to her. That wasn’t right. Or was it?  
_______________________________________________________

Lara approached the Morgaul commander, forced to his knees by two men with Beastflers.

The Emryds hadn’t exactly been quiet about their arrival on Morgaul shores and the creatures had been quick to assemble a force to stop their landing.

But bullets flew faster than arrows. Even then, they still spent two days fighting with them.

Lara pressed her hand to the Morgaul man’s temple. She didn’t speak Morgaul, so there was only one way to get a lay of the land.

She quickly drew from his muddled mind, extracting a precious little amount of clear information before dashing his sentience away.

The Morgaul slumped over, mindless.

“We’re north of the Origin Lands.” she muttered, “By about three days. We only have three days.”

“What should we do, majesty?” Thekela asked.

“We need to start marching. We’ll have to postpone setting up camp by about an hour each day.” Lara said, “I wo-”

“Your majesty!”

Lara whirled around as a Preserver’s apprentice ran towards her, stumbling over herself.

“Your majesty! We did it!”

“Did what?” Lara asked, “Elaborate.”

“My master took some of the unafflicted Morgauls and injected Lord Gammond with their blood. It worked! He’s awake!”

Lara’s eyes widened. She broke into a sprint towards the makeshift command center they had set up with their landing boats.

Lara shoved her way towards Gammond’s bed. He was sitting upright, hand clutching his head.

“Gam!” She gasped, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Wha-” he started, “Lara?”

Lara loosened her grip and kissed him, “Gods and Titans, you’re alright.”

“Lara, what happened?” Gammond groaned, “How long was I out?”

“A few weeks.” Lara muttered, “You had Megysis. Which I didn’t even think was still a thing people could get.”

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Morgaul.” Lara said, “We’re going to make it in time to stop Caze.”

Gammond dropped down from his bed, shaky at first, but he managed to stabilize himself, “Morgaul? Why’s our army in Morgaul? What about Emreth?”

Lara smiled, “We united it. The separatists surrendered!”

Gammond blinked, “Really?” he sighed in relief, “That’s incredible.”

“We just arrived in Morgaul. We have three days to stop Caze.” Lara said, “So we aren’t done yet.”

“How’d you get clearance to send our armies here while I was out of commission?” Gammond asked, “I don’t think you’d be able to pose as interim.”

“Oh, I didn’t need to get clearance.” Lara said, “I’m Empress of Emreth now.”

Gammond’s smile faded, “You’re...what?”

“Empress.” she repeated, “I couldn’t get them to send troops, so I just...changed the power structure. It was remarkably easy, now that I think about it.” she chuckled.

“You...he meant you...Lara...what about the Consulate?” he asked.

“It was far too inefficient. We just didn’t have the kind of time to wait around while Caze advanced his plans.” she said.

“The Consuls never would have turned power over to a dictator.” Gammond muttered, “Did you...did you overthrow them?”

“Well, I...not really.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Gammond sighed, “Lara, you overthrew the government? The one I helped to make? You betrayed me?”

“Listen, I get that you want the people to rule themselves and I appreciate the sentiment, but we had no choice.” Lara said, “It was just too slow.”

“I don’t give a damn if it was too slow, you threatened my father!” Gammond exclaimed, “And you made Emreth even more tyrannical than it was under any other government!”

“I thought you wanted Emreth to be united.” Lara protested.

“Not like this!” Gammond started hyperventilating.

“Gammond, please calm down. You’re still not well.” Lara said.

Gammond looked at the people surrounding him, “Were you all okay with this?”

Lara’s officers and generals looked down, murmuring mixed sentiments.

Gammond looked back at her. The pure disdain in his eyes made her shrivel up. The disappointment and betrayal...it made her feel helpless again.

“How many did you kill?” Gammond asked, “How many did you not? How many people did you steal sentience from?”

“I-”

“Hundreds, sir.”

Lara whirled around. Thekela glared at her with a defiance she’d never even shown a hint of before.

“The Empress invaded the kingdom with a pack of Nightprinces and toyed with the king’s son until she made him cut himself on her whip, killing the king.” Lara’s field marshal continued.

How did she even know about that?

“Just now, she wiped a Morgaul commander’s mind to gain the location of the Origin Lands.” Thekela growled.

Gammond stepped away from Lara.

“Gam, I did it to save us.” Lara said.

“I thought I knew you…” Gammond muttered.

Lara gritted her teeth, tears starting to well up around her eyes, “You were the one who said we had to be willing to do what was necessary!”

“None of that was necessary.” he replied, “I loved you, Lara. You know that? I would’ve done anything for you. But in my hour of need, you went behind my back in a grab for power! You betrayed me!”

“No, Gam-”

“Don’t call me that like I’m some pet of yours!” Gammond snapped.

“I-I didn’t do it for power...I just…”

“I see why the Atrellians want so desperately to keep you in line.” Gammond sighed, “You’re all monsters waiting to be released.”

Lara didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know what to do. She was surrounded. She didn’t want to lash out, but...but…

Lara reached out to the mind of everyone around her. If she could make this go away…

Gammond’s eyes widened, “Get out of my head!”

Lara flinched, retracting herself.

“You...you tried to manipulate my memories just now, didn’t you?” Gammond asked.

He didn’t even give her the chance to respond.

“I always hated that power.” he growled.

“I didn’t ask for the flerish I got!” Lara roared, “I didn’t ask to be Warlock!”

“You don’t get it.” Gammond said, “We tell you over and over again, but you still can’t listen! You don’t have to be the Warlock. No one does. You didn’t have to use your flerish. You didn’t have to give in to the set path that the gods paved for you. You could’ve carved your own.”

“If I wasn’t the Warlock, who would be?” Lara asked.

“That whip isn’t your alone.” Gammond said, “I was shown so many things while I was sick. I know about these weapons and their past. There is no ‘chosen one’. Any man can use them so long as they fulfill the requirements of the weapon.”

Lara glanced at her whip.

“You’re not the Warlock.” Gammond said, “No one is.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Lara asked.

“Even if we didn’t know, no one forced you to use those powers of yours.” he spat, “You used them because you were too weak to get over your hesitancy towards killing. So you subject them to a fate worse than death.”

“I can kill!”

“And yet you still just barge your way into people’s minds without a second thought.”

“I’m not weak!”

“Those who are strong don’t have to convince themselves so.” Gammond shot back.

Lara was empty inside. She longed to be killed right then and there.

Gammond took a gun from one of the nearby soldiers and broke it apart with his flerish, reforming it into a smaller gun. It had a socket, but no stone within it.

Gammond fired the weapon upwards, “I discovered that I could use the Brilliance Stone. I connected with the Archivist in my sleep. And as a result, I’ve decided to take up the mantle of the Scholar. To defeat you and Caze.”

Lara shook her head, “I...I won’t fight you.”

Gammond pointed the barrel of the weapon at her, “Good.”

Lara flinched, cowering out of her shameful instinct to live.

“I don’t want to kill you.” Gammond muttered, “So leave.”

Lara glanced up, “Why? Why not just kill me?”

“I’m too weak to.” Gammond said, “Take your personal belongings and leave. Go wherever. I don’t care. But never, and I mean never come back. I hereby banish you in the name of the Consulate.”


	30. Chapter 29: The Origin Lands

Edmund had to be carried to the infirmary by Camilla.

Preservers did their best to heal him, but the pain was still immense.

Camilla sat next to his bed.

“I feel like there’s a pattern starting to form.” Edmund groaned, “What with me getting injured all the time and you having to clean up after me.”

“It is fairly troublesome.” Camilla nodded, “But, so long as you’re grateful…”

“Believe me. I am.” he grinned.

“Hm...we’ll see.” she let herself grin along with him.

“Despite that gratefulness...I do think I’m owed an explanation.” Edmund said.

Camilla broke eye contact with him the moment he finished his sentence.

“Look, I know I’m probably asking a lot of you, but...I...I love you, alright? I know we were hesitant to call it that, but that’s just the simple truth of it. No matter what you did in the past, that won’t change the way I feel about how you are now.” Edmund said.

“You’re lying…” Camilla muttered, “No one’s feelings remain the same.”

“Well, I’m not lying enough for you to care. I’d rather know the truth than be in love with a lie.” he sighed.

“I...fine…” Camilla huffed, “You wanna hear my life story?”

Edmund nodded.

“I’m the Physician’s daughter.”

Edmund could only blink, “You’re what? I thought that ‘father’ thing was like a...priest’s title or something.”

“I’m the child of the Physician, whose real name is Caze.” Camilla said, “My mother was the former Queen of Emreth.”

Edmund just stayed silent, choosing to let Camilla explain what she wanted to.

“Caze is the original Thief from a thousand years ago. He was the Titan of Eternity’s second for most of the Titan’s War and turned traitor during the Last Battle.” Camilla elaborated, “He’s technically more machine than man, but he can still have children. After the Titans were imprisoned, he was dissatisfied with the fact that he couldn’t kill them. And that’s what he’s been trying to do these last thousand years.”

“Is it even possible to kill a Titan?”

Camilla shrugged, “My father intends to find out. And if he can’t kill them, he’ll unleash their power onto the world again. We aren’t ready for something like that. But he doesn’t care. He’s just gone around collecting up the God Stones. Yours is the only one he doesn’t have. You have to promise me you’ll keep it safe. No matter what.”

Edmund nodded, “Of course. I promise.”

“When my father went after the Cruelty Stone, he posed as a close advisor of the monarchy, eventually having an affair with my mother, the queen.” Camilla said, “When I was born, I was sent to Morgaul, where Caze was setting up his plans to take the Doom Stone. I’ve been his spy since I was a child. Only a few years ago did I deign to steal the Kynareth from him and run to Atrell. But I couldn’t just let him unleash the Titans. So I became his spy once again.”

“That’s...that’s a lot.” Edmund said, “What about...us?”

“I, uh...I originally started to advance on you because I needed to get close to protect you from him. But over time...I think I feel the same way you do. I...I love you.”

“Then you won’t mind if I do something I’ve really been missing these past two weeks?” Edmund asked.

“Do wha-”

Camilla was cut off by Edmund as he kissed her. She didn’t hesitate to return it with the same passion.  
_______________________________________________________________

Edmund was the first of the Atrellians to meet the Karo-Kunnar as they approached Fort Killigrew two days after Elius’s death, followed by Camilla, Pasco and Dregu.

A female Morgaul of Dregu’s stature met them at the gate of the fort with an entourage of six other Morgaul warriors, all mounted atop their monstrous horses.

“Sister Samga.” Dregu called.

“Dregu? Are you hurt?” the female asked.

“This fort is an ally, Samga.” Dregu said, “I can guarantee your safety.”

The Morgauls looked between each other, murmuring with uncertainty. Samga advanced on her horse, entering the fort. She was quickly followed by her subordinates.

“Sister Camilla.” Samga noted, “It’s been a while.”

Camilla nodded.

“You know them?” Edmund whispered.

“I’ll explain later.” Camilla responded.

Samga dismounted her horse. She, like Dregu, still towered over the humans, despite being small for their species. She had rough, leathery grey skin with a Morgaul’s customary wide and flat nose. The only real way to tell she was female aside from glancing at her chest was the fact that her skin lacked the discolored patches and bulging veins that males tended to have.

“Samga. You’re with child?” Dregu frowned.

Samga glanced away.

Edmund and Pasco both blinked in shock. The Morgaul didn’t look the least bit pregnant. They shared a look of confusion.

“You should be back in the Origin Lands.” Dregu said with concern, “Birth Season is...well, it’s now.”

“That matter is of little importance. Is this an offer of hospitality?” Samga asked.

Dregu shrugged, “I suppose, though, we have no food to spare. How goes it in the Origin Lands? What’s the Physician been doing?”

Samga tilted her head and spoke in her native tongue.

The Morgauls turned to look at Edmund.

“Edmund Isley.” she said, though she enunciated his name oddly, “A pleasure to meet you.” she folded her fingers together and held them firmly in an offer of greetings.”

Edmund replicated the gesture.

Dregu dragged Samga away just as Camilla dragged Edmund in the opposite direction.

She glanced around them conspiratorially, then whispered, “Now would be later.”

She dragged him further away, bringing Pasco along with them.

“Dregu’s going to distract Samga, but we all need to stall her as long as possible.” Camilla whispered.

“Why?” Edmund asked.

“There’s a lot to explain. Edmund, you know all this.” Camilla glanced back again. Samga had gone with Dregu somewhere.

Camilla quickly summarized Caze’s history with the Titans to Pasco, much to his shock, but he stayed silent for once and listened.

“...Samga has always been Caze’s lap dog. No doubt she’ll try to steal Edmund’s stone.” Camilla finished.

“Then shouldn’t we capture Samga?” Edmund said.

“If she’s captured, Caze will send all his armies after us. We aren’t in the position to fight them.” Camilla hissed, “All we have to do is keep the stone out of his hands for a few days and then he won’t be able to bring the Titans back.”

“How do you know all this?” Pasco asked.

“She’s his daughter.” Edmund said bluntly.

Camilla sheepishly nodded.

“So...are you also extremely old?” Pasco raised an eyebrow.

“I’m human, Pasco.” she muttered.

“How are we going to stall her?” Edmund asked.

“We just have to make sure she doesn’t get the mind to attack. She’s still loyal to Dregu as well.” Camilla said, “Though...it’s odd that even the Physician would send a pregnant woman on his behalf.”

“How can they even tell?” Pasco asked.

“Morgaul bodies are bulky enough so the womb doesn’t actually expand that much with an unborn child.” Camilla explained, “Also, they can hear the baby. They’ve got senses like that.”

“So can they hear us?” Edmund whirled around.

Camilla shook her head, “Only if she focuses. Dregu should be keeping her from doing that.”

“Sister Camilla?” Dregu’s voice roared through the air.

All three of them perked up.

“Samga’s gone into labor!”

Edmund blinked again. This was starting to become too much to handle.

“Shit.” Camilla hissed. She ran towards the sound of Dregu’s voice.

Edmund and Pasco followed close behind.

Samga was roaring an unearthly noise while Dregu gripped her hand.

“Pasco, go get water! Edmund, fire up a Faithfler and soothe the pain!” Camilla responded immediately, “Dregu, go find linens!”

Camilla knelt down in front of Samga and started speaking smooth, calming phrases in Morgaul. Well, as smooth and calming as the language could be. Edmund knelt down next to her and cast a Faithfler, attempting to dull the sense of pain within her.

Samga roared again, grabbing Edmund by the arm with a death grip. Edmund cringed as the grip nearly crushed his arm. Camilla noticed this and said something in Morgaul that got the woman to let go of him.

Pasco and Dregu returned with water and linens while Camilla went through a seemingly practised series of steps. She must have helped a lot of women give birth for...some reason.

The next few moments were a blur to Edmund while he became completely focused on healing Samga’s pain.

The sudden sound of crying filling the air snapped him out of his tunnel vision. He glanced over. Camilla held a human-sized baby Morgaul in her hands.

Samga’s breathing had calmed and a small crowd of curious, but uncomfortable Atrellians stood around. The blood soaked infant was wrapped in the linens after the umbilical cord was cut by Dregu. The child was then handed to Samga.

“This is why we stay in the Origin Lands during Birth Season, Samga.” Dregu sighed.

“I-I apologize.” Samga said, “My second will have to speak on further action with you. I must return to the Origin Lands. My child needs to be Enshrouded.”

Edmund cast a confused look to Camilla and Dregu.

“Morgaul children must be bathed in a fire to receive Idros’s blessing of life.” Dregu explained, “She must do it within three days of giving birth.”

Samga somehow managed to get to her feet, clean herself off and retreat to her horse with the infant in hand. If they were anything, Morgauls were tough.

Edmund, Pasco, Camilla and Dregu returned to the gate after Samga had left. Dregu approached one of Samga’s former escorts and started speaking with him in their tongue.

Edmund sighed at the surreality of the last ten minutes, resting his left arm on the pommel of his sword.

The rims of the socket pressed into his wrist. His eyes widened in dread as his heart dropped.

He glanced down.

“Camilla...I think the infant was a ruse.” Edmund said, alarmed.

“What?”

Edmund showed her the empty socket on his sword.

Camilla’s jaw dropped, “Y-you’re kidding. You mean her plan...was to distract us...by giving birth?”

“She has it, Camilla.” Edmund stated gravely.

“We need to go after her. Now.”  
___________________________________________________________________

Dregu, Camilla and Edmund raced through the Morgaul steppe on the backs of Morgaul horses, followed by the Karo-Kunnar.

Being the only one in the group to lack flerical powers, Pasco offered to stay back and bring the Atrellian army to the Origin Lands once a new command structure was implemented.

Wind tore through Edmund’s hair as his mount covered three times his height in a single bound.

Amazingly, Samga had evaded them for a day and a half, despite there only being a half hour gap between when they started to chase her down.

Dregu bellowed something in Morgaul that caused the Karo-Kunnar to slow down. Confused as to why, Edmund followed suit. Then he saw.

Just over the nearest hills of grass, sat an abandoned camp.

The fire pit was still smoking. And Edmund could hear the distinct cry of a child.

Dregu dismounted from his horse and approached the camp, “She left it behind…”

The Morgaul’s voice held a quivering sadness in it that Edmund had never heard from any of his kind.

Dregu scooped the linen-wrapped baby up from a stone.

Camilla let herself down from her steed and started to poke and prod at the remains of the camp, “She’s only a few hours ahead. We might still make it in time.”

She leapt back onto her horse.

“Come on, Dregu. We’ve no time to waste.” Edmund said.

“What of the child?” Dregu asked.

“Take it with you if you must.” Camilla sighed, “Just hurry.”

Dregu grabbed a strip of cloth from the pack on his horse and fashioned a sling out of it to carry the baby. He mounted his horse once again as they started to ride.

All through the night, Edmund rode. He rode until his legs became jelly. Until his back was twisted and knotted all over the place. Living in Morgaul had apparently given Camilla the same endurance for riding as the Morgauls themselves. Edmund was the only one seemingly suffering fatigue. He could only snack on Godshards to stave it off.

At long last, the pack finally came to a stop atop a giant hill. It had to be long after midnight had passed.

The sensation of a warm hand rubbing his back made him slightly more alert.

“You alright?” Camilla asked with concern, “I know we rode hard.”

Edmund cleared his throat, “Couldn’t be better.”

“Well, good. Because we’re far from finished with this.”

Edmund groaned, “Gods and Champions.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be riding.”

“If anything, we’ll get a night’s rest.” Dregu muttered, “We can't just besiege the Origin Lands. Especially during Birth Season. I suppose this is close enough to perform an Enshrouding.”

The area of land below them was lit bright with bonfires and torches. In the center of the massive plain, were about six or eight spires made of black stone that reached up to the sky, blossoming off of a central complex like a flower.

Edmund could see thousands upon thousands of Morgauls going about their business, with collections of tents larger than some Atrellian cities dotting the area.

“Welcome to the Origin Lands.” Camilla said, “The birthplace of the first Morgual and nearly every other Morgaul since.”

“Sister Camilla, do you remember the exact time when the Ground Zero Zenith is?” Dregu asked.

“What’s that?” Edmund asked.

“The exact time when the spot where the Titans were imprisoned a thousand years ago crosses just between those spires.” Camilla pointed, “The Roil moves independently of our world, so my father learned how to calculate it. When the Zenith happens, the portal opens. The last estimate I recall was tomorrow at seven twenty-six. It’ll last about half an hour.”

“Then we should make our move at midday.” Dregu siad, “We’d be cutting it close, but we have no options left.”

“All we have to do is play keepaway with a single God Stone, doesn’t matter which one it is.” Camilla said, “But we’ll need our full strength to do it. We should only launch a full attack if absolutely necessary. That would make it too easy for Caze to just hole himself up in his tower and wait.”

“An infiltration, then?” Edmund asked.

Camilla nodded, “Being that you’re currently the most powerful of us, why don’t you leave the planning to us and get some sleep?”

“You sure?”

“We know this land far better. We’ll be fine.” Camilla kissed him on the cheek, “And who knows? I may want to visit you in the night just in case the world ends.”


	31. Chapter 30: the Zenith

Lara stumbled through the barren landscape of Morgaul, a single pack on her back, a Blimsvok slung over her shoulder and a scarf wrapped over her armor.

 _Why?_ She constantly asked herself, with each step she took.

Why did she continue south?

She was nothing and nobody. A blissful and ignorant girl who had just realized the weight of her sins.

Lara slowed to a stop at the top of a hill, looking out across the wind-scarred plains. In the far off distance, she could see her destination. Several black towers standing as monoliths in the dusty, orange sky.

She would have to trek up until the last day before the Zenith.

She glanced closer to her location and saw a thin creek in the ground.

Lara’s chest started to beat with excitement, the dryness in her mouth yearning even more to be quenched. She staggered down the hillside and collapsed to her knees at the stream. She dipped her armored hands into the cool water and sipped greedily from her cupped palms. One wasn’t enough. She took another drink. And another. And another.

When she was satisfied, Lara dug an empty canteen from her pocket and started to fill it in the stream.

Morgaul’s steppe was scarce of water. It rained more than in a desert, but it was still incredibly dry.

She thought to pray thanks to Bronduk for this blessing, but...she’d left him behind. Praying to him would only accomplish incitement of his wrath.

For so long, she’d thought the Gods as shackles to be cast off. But now eclipsed in darkness, she wanted nothing more than a binding to lead her in the right direction.

Lara stared at her reflection in the water. Her hair was greasy and tangled. Her face was smeared with dirt. Her armor lacked its shiny glare, replaced by dust. She looked...awful.

Lara took her canteen out from the stream and replaced its cap. She had half a mind to find the source of the water. A spring or a lake would be a nice place to camp. She could wash herself off at the very least.

Well, perhaps she could clean her hair and face.

Lara dipped her hands back into the water and rubbed the cool liquid on her cheeks. It chilled her to the touch, reminiscent of the sea’s spray back in Atrell. She washed out her hair as well, releasing it from its binding of grime.

She looked remarkably like her old self again, just before the Harvest Ball. Like the girl in the mirror, unsure of herself, but confident enough to chase her dreams.

She had let herself become a pawn of evil in her pursuit of freedom. It seemed freedom was nothing but a distant dream. Everyone was a slave to something. Whether it be to a god or to a nation. To money, to power, to even one’s own hopes. Every person lost themselves within their obedience to their slaver.

“How can you say that?”

Lara glanced upwards. Nothing.

Was it her imagination? No. She’d seen far too much of the arcane to naively believe that.

“Who’s there?” Lara’s hand moved to her whip.

“Look harder and you will see.” The voice hissed.

Lara hesitated. Look harder?

“You lack true sight.”

Lara closed her eyes and cast her Shadowfler. When she opened them again, she saw the source.

The figure didn’t quite look like a regular user of Shadwoflers. It’s form lacked definitive lines and most bodily features, save a vaguely humanoid appearance and a pair of glowing violet eyes.

“Who are you?” Lara asked.

“I suppose you could call me your slaver.” the figure hissed, its voice cold and nearly uncaring. Nearly. “I am Tialeis, God of Discord and Death. Patron Deity of revolt, bandits, thieves and rogues. I am the embodiment of opportunity, triumph and glory. The one who gives you your power.”

Against her better judgement, considering she faced a god, Lara’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“I’m certain you blame me for a lot of things.” Tialeis muttered, “And I can understand why. Bronduk abandoned you once I laid my claim. Blame me if you must. But I will not have you talk so ill of all you have worked to gain.”

“What have I gained? I’ve done nothing but lost.” Lara murmured, “I...I’ve lost everything. Even my humanity.”

“No one ever loses their humanity until they cease being human. You are still human, yes?” Tialeis said, “There is no such thing as a humanity beyond that. Each person has their own definition of what it means to be human esoterically. And thus, it does not really exist.”

“What does that matter? You’re just arguing about words. That doesn’t change the facts.”

“Ah, but words are important, are they not? Words are the way in which we impart our ideas. How and why we use them are important. You use humanity to refer to a moral standard that you apply to all humans. Once you’ve crossed that boundary, you have considered yourself to have lost your humanity and to be worth less than others who have yet to breach this arbitrary line. However, theoretically, everyone’s humanity should be considered the same thing, considering the way you humans use it.”

Lara shook her head, “You talk too much.”

“Remember when your definition of humanity included being faithful to Bronduk? You never said it aloud, but you viewed heretics as lesser than yourself. But the moment you were turned away by your God, you changed it.”

“Are you calling me a hypocrite?” Lara asked.

“Of course not.” Tialeis said, “People change. And it is because they change that you should abandon any notions of what a human is supposed to act like. Just like freedom. My version of freedom is different from yours. So if you think about it, freedom doesn’t really exist.”

“What an uplifting message.” Lara sighed.

“Or rather, it doesn’t exist if you refuse to apply your own meaning.” Tialeis continued, “Now, I am all for consistency. But your definition of humanity, just like your definition of freedom, is based on what other people say those things are. Do you think what you did was wrong?”

“Yes.” Lara answered coldly.

“Not now. As you were taking over. Did you really think that these consequences would come about?”

Lara shook her head.

“Precisely. Otherwise, why would you do them? You were only trying to do the right thing.”

“So are you saying that I should be okay with what I did so long as I keep changing the definitions of certain words?” Lara asked.

Tialeis sighed audibly, “You know, no other god would be as patient with you as I’m being now. Stop putting words in my mouth.”

“Apologies...your, uh...diviness.”

“No, no. You make a good point. You should take responsibility for your actions, but just because you made one screw up, no matter how big that screw up was, that doesn’t condemn you. You’re still redeemable.” Tialeis said, “Maybe not to some, but at least to yourself.”

“Then...what do I do?”

“Well, you’re already half-way there. You admitted that you and the people you care about don’t like what you’ve done. All you have to do is set a bar for yourself. Make your own penance.”

“You keep going on about me this, me that. I don’t give a damn about how I feel.”

“That’s objectively false.” Tialeis replied, “But I suppose I can humor you. Know this. All people, human or otherwise, are selfish. Even the most selfless of people are just as selfish as the worst tyrants. Some manifest their selfishness in the accumulation of power and wealth. Others...well, others wish to feel as though they have meaning to others. So they give of themselves and in return, they feel fulfilled.”

“What are you getting at?”

“This doesn’t make them bad people. There are no real bad people. There are just the short-sighted and the forward-gazing. You wish to be loved by that artificer. He did love you. Though whether or not he continues to do so is his prerogative. His freedom.” Tialeis said, “All you can do is be your best self for him.”

“My best self?”

“When have you felt your happiest in life?” the god asked.

Lara hesitated, thinking through all the stages of her life, “Probably...before I was arrested.”

“Are you certain?”

“I-” Lara thought again.

No. She was anxious, self-conscious and afraid then. The only time she felt near happy was…

“During my days with Gammond. After Spetyll had died.” Lara muttered, “After I freed myself.”

“Now that sounds more likely.” Tialeis said approvingly, “Be that person. Be the woman you were most satisfied with. Be the woman your artificer fell in love with. That is as close to the real you as you can get. So I suggest you don’t let go of that.”

“But I...I’m not strong enough to...I’m not that woman anymore.” Lara sighed, “I can’t just...make myself like that.”

“You aren’t making yourself like that. You are that. You’ve gone and tried something else. You tried the path of short-sightedness. You walked the path of isolation. And you hated it. The only thing that’s changed since then is that you know what doesn’t work for you.”

Lara stared at the ground in confusion. Perhaps...perhaps she didn’t have to be a monster. Perhaps she had just...taken a few too many steps in a direction she didn’t like. All she needed to do was return to the path that she did.

“Now you see it. And for the record, you are plenty strong enough. Otherwise I never would have considered you worthy to carry my weapon.”

A question hit Lara’s mind, “If you don’t mind me asking, do...do the gods really choose their Champions?”

Tialeis chuckled, “In the way you think of it? No. Our partnership is a two-way street. I allowed you to access my power because I believed you were worthy. But I didn’t know until the moment you took the Whip.”

With that, her Shadowfler ran out. Color flooded her vision as Tialeis vanished. Lara felt a twinge of sadness within her as his image faded.

She stood on her own two feet, “Thank you...my lord. I know my path now.”

Her path was one of compassion. One of sacrifice. One of service. There would be no life of hers with Gammond with the Titans amok. And so, her first target would be the dark towers that loomed in the sky beyond.  
_____________________________________________________________

Camilla did not end up visiting Edmund. He supposed she wanted to be optimistic for this operation.

Edmund sat cramped up in a large saddlebag as Dregu, disguised as a common Morgaul, entered the Origin Lands. Camilla was in the bag on the other side of the horse.

This was by far, the worst entrance he’d ever made as a thief.

As of now, the plan was to enter the towers, have Edmund distract Caze while Camilla stole a stone under the cover of a Shadowfler.

Edmund wondered if he could even fight the original thief without the Clarion Stone. Well, he had to, regardless.

He clutched Shadowbane to him as he was shaken about by Dregu’s horse.

Almost an hour later, the horse came to a stop and Dregu opened the saddlebags. Edmund crawled out, wincing as his joints reoriented themselves.

Camilla emerged on the other side, stretching.

They had gotten out in a concealed area within the gathering of tents around the base of the towers.

“The rest is up to you, Sister.” Dregu said, “And Brother.”

With that, Dregu pulled his hood over himself even further before riding off.

Camilla focused for an instance as she concealed the both of them with a Shadowfler. The world around him became monochromatic while Camilla’s colors were only muted.

“Remember...follow my lead. Don’t make a sound.” she whispered.

Edmund nodded and followed her as they crept towards the center of the spires.

Everything about the towers seemed artificial in a sense. Edmund couldn’t discern if it was made of stone or metal and the outer layer had a smooth sheen of blackness to it that seemed impossible to achieve by any conventional means.

The space in between the towers was a ruin of metal walls and partially destroyed buildings, all covered by a giant cloth overhang, propped up a single pillar of stone.

Camilla and Edmund sifted around the metallic remains of whatever was once here, passing by strange contraptions and machinery that seemed rather similar to the ruins in the Atrellian homeland.

Wary of patrolling Morgauls, they slowly made their way to the center of the complex.

The rooms and stations set up closer to the center seemed far more worn and used, the floor made up of bricks or metal instead of dirt. Energy sources pumped power into a variety of devices.

Camilla suddenly froze, Edmund nearly bumping into her.

“...was incredibly fast.” a silky, but cold voice said as two pairs of footsteps echoed on the stone floors, “I’m genuinely astonished, Samga.”

“Thank you, master.” Samga’s voice echoed.

A tall, willowy man walked with the Morgaul past them. He was dressed in smooth, immaculate black robes and silvery metal plate armor, a head of straight, long black hair tied behind his head in a tail. In his gloved fingers, he held the Clarion Stone.

Edmund felt an immense amount of power radiating from the man, more than any Megyno Stone or flerfinger. It was as though his very flesh was fabricated from Megyno energy.

That had to be Caze. Edmund felt himself shrinking in the presence of the sheer force of his power.

He had to be as powerful as tenfold Edmund’s strongest.

Camilla slowly crept behind them as they passed, Edmund following close behind.

“With this, our collection is complete.” Caze said joyously.

Caze and Samga entered one of the makeshift rooms amongst the ruins. Camilla and Edmund peered in.

One giant sphere-shaped structure was held in the middle by a podium. It was solid black like the towers and had a diameter as tall as Edmund himself.

Caze spoke a phrase in a language full of sounds Edmund had trouble comprehending. It almost sounded like the few times he’d heard preachers speak Ansami. Something must’ve happened with the sphere, because Caze then proceeded to work at something on its surface.

Segments of the sphere jutted out, releasing a cloud of steam hissing into the air before the segment facing the front split open and slid to the sides. A singular disc was automatically extended from the center of the sphere and angled up to face Caze. Nine God Stones, stuck in sockets, sat within the disc, their power reaching Edmund’s senses.

Caze pressed the Clarion stone in the top most socket along the disc before it sunk back into the sphere and sealed itself once again.

“Go prepare the Fixed for the Ground Zero Zenith.” Caze said.

“Yes, master.” Samga bowed before running off.

Caze followed her out of the room, leaving the sphere unattended.

Once Caze was sufficiently far enough, Camilla whispered, “You stand guard. I’ll unlock the sphere.”

Edmund knelt down by the doorway, keeping one eye on the pathways and one eye on Camilla.

Camilla spoke the eldritch phrase to the sphere, opening a pad full of buttons in the surface of the sphere. She went about trying combinations of four.

Edmund glanced back to the hall. No one was in sight.

The sphere hissed as it was successfully opened. But the next noise Edmund heard was a gasp.

“It’s empty.”

“What?” Edmund whirled around.

Indeed, the disc had offered itself, but all the stones were gone.

“Maybe they’re somewhere else in the sphere?” he asked.

“No, this device only has one tray. Where the-”

“You’d have to be quite the fool to assume I’d just stuff everything in a safe.” that cold voice molested Edmund’s ears once again.

His vision was flooded with color as Camilla’s surprise caused her focus on their invisibility to vanish. Behind them stood Caze. How had he gotten here so quick? There was no one in sight only a few seconds ago.

“Have you been away so long that you’ve forgotten I can use Shadowflers too?” Caze rolled out his wrist, holding the Clarion Stone between two fingers.

Edmund instinctively held out the hilt of his sword, hoping the attractive force Shadowbane’s socket and the stone always had would bring it to him. He was wrong.

“I’ve kept these precious gems somewhere far more secure after you showed me my valuables could easily be stolen.” He smirked, “Like with my dagger.”

Caze took his glove off and bit into the skin on the back of his hand, tearing it off. No blood spilled from it. Caze fit the stone into a socket of metal under his skin, sending waves of emanating energy over his form.

“No!” Camilla cried.

Edmund started to close the distance, but felt his bones start to become heavy. The air became as thick as tar when he tried to move, making it near impossible for him to even keep himself upright.

“Isn’t the power of the Cruelty Stone truly impressive? The way it plays with your senses...a perfect namesake.”

Edmund needed to reach him. But how? There was nothing he could do. Even his strongest Lawfler wouldn’t be able to crack what suppressed his movement.

“It’s a tad late, now that I think about it, for you to try and infiltrate my laboratory.” Caze muttered, “Oh! You must’ve been operating on the prediction from years ago!” he chuckled, “I came up with a much more accurate formula. The Zenith is now, Camilla. Sorry you were off.”

Edmund couldn’t even express his surprise.

At that moment, the ground started to rumble. Edmund felt a surge of Megyno energy, as though the environment wasn’t already extremely saturated.

Then, the ground started to rise. More rumbling continued as dirt, stone bricks, metal walls, equipment and the overhanging cloth fell to the wayside. The ground under them was a massive black disc that was carried up by mechanisms attached to the towers.

Edmund collapsed to his side as the disc rose further and further into the sky.

“A thousand years in the making…” Caze grinned.

Morgauls and Fixed Morgauls who had been patrolling were starting to lose their balance. Those on the edges fell off to their deaths.

Now that Edmund could see them all, he found that there were ten towers, one for Champion. One for each Stone.

The disc came to a stop near the concave peaks of the towers.

Caze counted his fingers, each one lighting up with a different color of energy. He lashed his arms outward, beams of light firing from his fingertips and towards the towers.

The energy beams each hit a tower and redirected along the curved surface of the peaks, shooting upwards and colliding some fifty to a hundred feet above them.

A blast of residual energy exploded from the point of connection for each beam. The shock wave distorted clouds and burnt some of the Morgauls to a crisp. Edmund was unharmed thanks to the voracious hunger for energy that Shadowbane had. He trusted that the Kynareth similarly protected Camilla.

A ball of light was starting to form where all the beams of light convened. Those were the beginnings of the Portal. And Edmund could do nothing but watch. He was helpless.

Then the beams vanished along with the portal.

Edmund’s eyes flicked back over to Caze, just as he regained his movement.

A tall woman with tanned skin and dark, curled hair and dressed in black plate armor was restricting one of Caze’s arms with a whip that seemed to be made of bleached bones.

Edmund staggered to his feet just as Camilla did the same.

Edmund frowned. He’d seen her somewhere before.

“L-Lara? Lara Shawe?” Edmund exclaimed.

Lara yanked on her whip, pulling Caze off his feet before coiling the whip back to her. She looked at him back, recognition sparking in her eyes.

“Edmund…” She whispered, “I can’t believe it.”

“Who’s this?” Camilla asked.

“She’s a friend.” Edmund said, holding Lara’s gaze with gratitude.

Lara glanced away, “Lara Shawe. I’m the Warlock.”

“Camilla Veriga.” Camilla said, “Glad to have you.”

“If I must kill you all first, so be it.” Caze growled as he stood, “I’ve got time.”

Caze held out his hand, Megyno energy coalescing around his fist, but an arrow knocked it away as a beam of energy fired from it. Caze shot a glare of rage to the source of the arrow.

Dregu had already knocked another arrow in the Lygaroz, the sacred bow of the Marksman.

“You Champions breed like roaches!” Caze shouted.

Dregu joined Edmund, Camilla and Lara in facing him.

Caze formed two fists and drew them out to his shoulders.

“Everyone hold onto Edmund!” Camilla shouted.

Caze slammed his fists together.

Edmund felt three hands grab him before white light flooded them. He felt himself go incorporeal as waves of pure energy radiated out.

The light retracted after a few seconds, causing Edmund to become corporeal again.

“What in Idros’s name…” Dregu muttered.

“A Dying Star.” Lara gasped.

“What’s that?” Edmund asked.

“What you just saw.” Camilla said, “A giant, life destroying wave of energy. They were used as superweapons during the Titan’s War. But this one was small. Probably didn’t even reach the ground. He won’t be able to use another one of those until the Stones recharge. With the saturation of energy in the air, that’ll take only a few minutes.”

“Then let’s kill him before then.” Edmund said.

The Knight dashed forward, blade drawn. Caze leapt backwards, the flesh on his arms shifting. They became solid metal, five God Stones rising to the surface on each hand. Caze swiped his hand through the air, unleashing a wave of Megyno energy.

Edmund shot himself into the air with a Lawfler and let the momentum carry his blade downwards.

His blade clanged against Caze’s metal arms.

Caze frowned as their metal ground against each other, “You Elius’s boy, aren’t you?”

Edmund leapt backwards, “That’s right. You gave him the technology to make me, didn’t you? Well, he’s dead.”

“Really? That’s a shame. I was almost certain he’d finish one of my proj-”

Caze was cut off by an explosive blast. Something made of metal shot through his head, but he didn’t falter. He turned to look at Lara, who held up an odd-looking device.

“The Emryds managed to recreate firearms, huh? Impressive.” Caze muttered. He caught an arrow shot by the Lygaroz. 

Camilla followed it up by appearing behind him and stabbed him in the neck. Caze blasted Camilla away, which Edmund refused to let go unreprimanded.

Soon, all four of them were endlessly assaulting Caze. But by some curse, he managed to stave them off.

Four flerishers. Four Champions. And it still wasn’t enough to defeat him.

Camilla was hit with a blast of energy. Dregu, slammed in the ribs with a devastating blow. Lara was clobbered in the jaw by her own device. And Edmund, hit square in the chest with two beams of light.

All four of them were sent flying off the edge of the giant disc.

Edmund grabbed onto the other three and used up most of his energy stores softening their landing with a powerful Lawfler.

They landed with a thump in the grassy dirt.

Down below, the Origin Lands were in a panic. Morgauls ran left and right trying to flee. The Karo-Kunnar were doing their best to channel them away from the towers in an orderly fashion.

Camilla gazed upward, “What do we do now?”

As the beam returned to the sky, The giant black tower before them hissed, warm steam flowing from them and making it difficult to breathe.

“What is this?” Dregu grunted.

Edmund peered through the mist as the towers each opened up. And out came a landslide of metal grafted to flesh.  
_____________________________________________________________________

Titanspawn came down upon the Origin Lands in a wave, like a writhing sea during a storm.

“Run!” Lara screamed.

She, along with Edmund, his friend Camilla and the Morgaul Dregu whirled around and sprinted in the opposite direction of the mass of Titanspawn creatures. They flailed and squirmed on the ground, but some were starting to get their footing.

The simple thralls that Lara and Gammond had witnessed in Caze’s lab weren’t the only ones among this horde.

There were hulking creatures twice as large as a human that skittered across the ground and goliaths of metal, with only cleaving blades for limbs held together by rotting flesh.

An ear piercing roar split Lara’s head as a shadow passed over them. An amalgam of metal and flesh vaguely in the shape of a mythical dragon soared overhead.

“What in the Roil is that thing!” Edmund cried.

Lara slid to a stop in the dirt, chambering an armor piercing round and fired it at the soft, fleshy neck of the draconic horror, sending it spiraling downwards. She recovered and continued running, “Don’t ask! Just aim for the head!”

Unfortunately, not all Morgauls could make it out fast enough. Especially new mothers and young children who’d lost their parents.

Lara’s heart sank as she watched the ravenous Titanspawn tear into the flesh of those who couldn’t escape. But their sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. With each straggler that was caught and consumed, precious seconds were bought for the Champions. It was a terrible sacrifice, but if they didn’t take advantage, those innocents would die for nothing.

But as much as she liked to think that the deaths bought them time, a horde of this size could only be outrun for so long.

Lara whirled around just in time to spear a larger hulk in the head with her whip. She planted her feet and electrified her whip, swinging it in a wide formation.

Arcs of lightning leapt off the weapon and sent the shocked Titanspawn reeling.

“They react poorly to electricity and being hit in the head!” Lara shouted as the other quickly found themselves unable to run any longer, “Otherwise, they regenerate!”

Edmund launched a huge swathe of them backwards with a powerful blast of a Lawfler. She didn’t know he could do that. But then again, he did have to be a Brondumancer.

Camilla seemingly activated a flerish of Sylvanor, Glorekja and Kogniirok. Two seams opened in the air, allowing two bat-like demons to spring from the Roil and attack the onslaught of Titanspawn.

Meanwhile, Dregu cut them down with a Morgaul blade faster than she could see.

Good. She didn’t have anything to worry about.

The dart of her whip never stayed near her for more than a split second. Somehow, she was able to manage her whip with one arm and her legs while firing her Blimsvok every once in a while to fell the larger enemies.

“I hate to sour the adrenaline pumping through our heads,” Camilla shouted, “but I doubt we can keep this up much longer! Four Champions aren’t an army. Especially without our Stones!”

As if to respond, Dregu paused and let out an earth-shaking roar. Or perhaps it was a musical tone. It was hard to tell.

Nevertheless, a cacophony of voices responded with the same tone.

The Morgauls that had just ran over the hills for their lives came barreling back down on horseback, bows drawn.

A volley of arrows killed or pinned down a significant chunk of the foremost Titanspawn.

Dregu let out another roar. This one, most definitely a battlecry.

“MORGAUL EKHLEIRKH!” He screamed.

By the simple act of enunciating their determination and vigor, Lara was rejuvenated. She had the strength to keep fighting.

Morgauls who had hitched a ride on other horses leapt off, Nihilflers and spear bared.

Dregu lit up a Warfler, igniting his body in a coat of flames as he leapt into the fray without a thought for caution. He joined his people in slaughtering the Titanspawn.

A few good minutes of fighting with the Morgauls on their side later, The Titanspawn seemed less eager to throw themselves at their opponents. Perhaps they did have some semblance of a mind.

But they were still heavily outnumbered. One to a hundred at least. And that was just from the nearest tower.

Lara looked up. Caze’s portal was growing larger.

“We only have about twenty minutes to stop him!” Camilla shouted, “We need a way up!”

“I can propel us!” Edmund offered.

“Save your strength for Caze!” Camilla said. She pressed her hands to the ground and summoned four more bat demons, these ones with giant wings, “My demons can take us up! But I think I saw some kind of ranged unit in there! And if another one of those dragons shows up, we’re dead!”

“Let’s try it anyways!” Lara yelled above the noise of the conflict.

“Dregu! We’re headed up!” Camilla called.

Dregu leapt back to them, extinguishing his Warfler.

At Camilla’s command, her demons grabbed each of them by the arms and started to fly them up.

They ascended to half the height of the towers no problem. Same for flying halfway towards them.

But around the three quarters mark, things started to go poorly. A dragon took notice.

Lara had to wrench her hand from the demon’s grip and pull out her Blimsvok while managing to hang on for dear life. She cocked it with one hand and fired. The round clipped the metallic armor around its head. She missed.

Lara cocked the weapon a second time and waited until the dragon opened its mouth to exhale. She fired again, this time landing her hit right in the roof of its maw.

The dragon fell from the sky. But Caze took notice. He glanced down at them and tore his hands away for a split second to let a shockwave of energy launch from his fist. The wave caused the demons to go into a mad panic, gripping their passengers too tight and failing to fly correctly.

It was only thanks to Edmund that they didn’t become red stains on the ground.

“I don’t think flying will work no matter how we do it.” Edmund huffed once they were safe on land, “We’ll need to open a path to the center of the towers and climb.”

“Climb how? Those things are smooth as silk.” Dregu noted.

“We need rope. A lot of it.” Edmund said, “I can blast myself up there and pin a rope to where the disc and the towers connect.”

“All the rope we could’ve lended is somewhere in that mess.” Dregu pointed at the horde, which was operating in a far more orderly fashion. Both the Morgauls and Titanspawn were fighting more conservatively.

“Then we’ll have to charge in.” Edmund said.

“Are you crazy? We’ll die before we get past the first row of tents.” Lara protested.

“Wait! Look!” Camilla pointed behind them.

Orbs of fire like a volley of suns streaked through the sky from the south.

“Atrellian magonels…” Edmund whispered, “Pasco.”

“The Atrellian armies are here!” Camilla shouted with relief.

Atrell? Would they agree to help their enemy? Lara shook her head. If the Atrellians said they would help, she’d gratefully take their word.


	32. Chapter 31: Eternity

The bellow of warhorns accompanied the projectiles fired by Atrellian artillery. And just after that, thousands upon thousands of screams.

Pious and Snakes, all armored and bearing the triangular shields of the Atrellian Infantry barreled down the hill.

A second army to aid in their fight. And a much larger one at that.

Arrows and crossbow bolts rained from the sky, accompanying the explosions of flaming boulders landing in the dirt.

The Atrellian infantry formed up like a well-oiled machine in front of Edmund and his companions, stacking their shields upon one another.

Pasco rode down behind them on horseback.

“You know, I probably could have caught up to you guys before you got here.” Pasco chuckled as he came to a stop.

“What? Why didn’t you?” Camilla asked.

Pasco shrugged, “I took a little detour to some of the other camps and forts. I think it speaks for itself, eh?”

Indeed, Edmund didn’t remember having nearly this many foot soldiers ready to fight back at Fort Killigrew.

“Well you arrived right on time.” Edmund said, “We need to clear a pathway through that horde, so we can get under the giant disc and climb up. We also need the longest length of rope you have.”

“I can definitely do the second. The first, though...what even are these things?” Pasco frowned.

“Lara seems to know a thing or two about them.” Edmund said, passing off the grounds to speak to her.

Pasco broke into a surprised smile, “Hey, I remember you! I screwed you over!”

“He’s a friend?” Lara raised an eyebrow.

“A dear one.” Edmund nodded.

“Aw, see I knew you’d-”

“Don’t read too much into that.” Edmund cut him off.

Lara shook her head, “These creatures are known as Titanspawn. They were the foot soldiers of the Titans during the War. As far as we know, they can regenerate, unless you land a solid blow to the head and they can get stunned by electricity. Also, don’t get hit. It causes something similar to what the Morgauls have.”

“You know, we can actually do electricity.” Pasco said, “Just give me a sec. Oi! Aim for the heads! And bring out the chariots!”

Edmund let himself half-grin, “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna shove us into a Chariot and have Lara electrocute the grafted-on fronts.” Edmund said.

Pasco nodded, “Didn’t know that girl was a Sparker, but yep. That’s pretty much it.”

“Oh boy. How many Sparkers do we have?” Edmund asked.

“Two hundred, give or take ten.” Pasco estimated.

“Stick them on however many chariots we have. We need to make a dent in this horde. It’ll be denser up front than further back. We’ll only need them for a minute or two.” Edmund said.

“If you say so.” Pasco rode off on his mount.

The Atrellian army was doing a remarkable job of regularly rotating soldiers to the front two lines. Edmund knew they were efficient, but he never would’ve guessed they’d do well against a horde of ancient technologically advanced monsters.

A few minutes later, a line of chariots rode downwards, each manned by a Sparker, save one. Pasco also brought a rope coil so large it nearly fell off his shoulder.

Dregu chose to retrieve a Morgaul horse from a few reserves. Edmund, Lara and Camilla piled into the empty chariot. Pasco also tossed them two tins of Godshards.

“Lara, I’m gonna need you to grab onto this metal handle and throw as much power from your Stormfler as you can into it.” Edmund said, passing her one of the tins. He and Camilla split the rest.

“Got it. Who’s driving?” Lara asked.

“It’s a straight shot.” Camilla said, “I think I can handle it.”

“In that case, I’ll spray down whatever breaks through.” Edmund said, grabbing a handful of metal shrapnel from a bag on his belt.

“Eddy!” Pasco shouted, “You forgot this at the Fort!”

Pasco tossed Edmund the buckler he’d dug out of the ruins like a discus. Edmund caught the buckler. Its Crystal had been replaced. Edmund nodded his thanks.

“Is that ancient Roilplate?” Lara asked.

“Uh...I have no idea.” Edmund muttered, “Forget that, let’s ride!”

Camilla snapped the reins of the chariot, causing the other chariots to do the same. Almost like a giant tidal wave, the Atrellian chariots surged through on a field of bright bluish purple arcs of energy.

Smaller Titanspawn flew backwards upon contact with the powerful electric force, while the bigger ones were shoved aside.

The infantry filed in behind them, keeping the recovering Titanspawn at bay until the chariots could turn back. All except theirs, of course.

Finally, they broke through the endless mob. They could actually see the ground. A few Titanspawn were pushed aside, but they didn’t coalesce together like a bucket of tar.

The Origin Lands were in ruins. Tents burned, corpses lay strewn about as bone or half-eaten carcasses. Edmund heard Dregu gag behind them.

The stench even got to him. It was more than rot. There was something chemical in the air. Cold and slimy, if a smell could be those things. It burned his nostrils.

Edmund glanced back at the poor man and gasped.

“Dregu? You’re gonna want to speed up! Now!”

A pack of Titanspawn were right on their heels, silent aside from their skittering which was overshadowed by the spinning wheels of the chariot.

Dregu glanced behind him and cursed. He kicked his horse’s side, spurring it to surpass the chariot.

The pack wasn’t that large in comparison to what spilled from the towers, but it was still no less than fifty or sixty of the creatures.

Camilla urged the horses onwards with another snap of the reins.

Edmund fired his handful of shrapnel, taking out two or three of them at once. But it didn’t really do anything to slow them down. One he thought he’d scored a decent hit on kept running, stumbling slightly, but regenerating nonetheless.

Lara stepped around Camilla, no longer really needing the front panel. She grabbed her odd-looking pipe weapon and started to fire it, taking out a Titanspawn with each shot.

“What is that thing?” Edmund asked, launching another handful of scrap metal.

“A gun.” Lara said, “Makes a tiny explosion and shoots out a really strong metal bullet.”

“Huh. Useful.” Edmund muttered.

“We’re almost there!” Camilla shouted, “Lara and I will hold them off! You get that rope ready as fast as you can! Shoot something down to let us know it’s ready!”

Edmund nodded, “Got it!”

Camilla let go of the reins, “Jump!”

All four of them leapt from their chariot and horse and landed under the disc. Edmund grabbed the coil of rope on his shoulder and took one end while Lara brandished an electrified whip against their pursuers.

Edmund launched himself into the air, flying upwards under the platform with constant short blasts of wind. Unnoticed by Caze, he soared over the metallic limbs that held the disc in place and tied the rope off under the mechanism. He wrapped his arm and leg around the coil so he could more easily fire a bit of shrapnel at the ground.

The dirt that sprayed up let the women know he’d finished his job.

Camilla went up first, wrapping the rope around her arms and legs and shimmying up the tower. Dregu and Lara followed suit once Camilla was a safe ways up, taking the end of the rope with them so the Titanspawn couldn’t follow.

Once they got to the top, Edmund hefted himself up and helped the other two onto the platform. Caze’s back was facing them.

Edmund dashed forward as Dregu fired an arrow from his bow. Caze whirled around to catch the arrow, but failed to counteract Edmund as he ran his sword through his gut. Caze roared in pain, giving Edmund the time to spin into a decapitating strike. But his saber clashed with a field of light surrounding Caze’s forearm.

Caze used the Clarion Stone’s ability to unleash that kinetic force back at him, sending Edmund flying across the platform.

Dregu followed that up with more arrows while Lara and Camilla closed the distance. Edmund staggered to his feet. Caze was perfectly timing and countering his opponents to an uncanny degree. That had to be a power from one of the Stones. No man, Titanspawn or not, had that much brain power during a fight.

Edmund looked up at the towers. The beams had vanished thanks to their distraction. And the empty chutes on each of them gave him an idea.

Edmund ran at the nearest tower, propelling himself up the chute with a Lawfler and even higher with further usage. He positioned himself directly over Caze and accelerated his way down. Caze couldn’t react in time.

Edmund’s knees slammed into Caze, forcing him to the ground. Edmund leapt up and exerted as much force as he could manage onto him.

“Grab one of the Stones!” Edmund shouted.

Camilla slid in and wedged her dagger into one of the sockets. She tried to wrench it out, but Edmund sensed his fler collapse without resistance. Caze tossed Camilla back and staggered to his feet.

But before he could attack them again, Lara wrapped his hand up with her whip and pulled. An arrow with a wire attached to it went through Caze’s other hand and let Dregu pull in the opposite direction.

Caze was about to pull both of them in, but Edmund ran up from behind and ran his sword through his spine. Edmund used the time Caze spent reeling from the pain to lock up his arms.

Camilla was on him in a split second once again.

“Edmund...Isley.” Caze croaked, “You...you had a sister, didn’t you? Kaitlyn Isley?”

Edmund ignored him as Camilla worked at Caze’s bound hand.

“This was the exact opposite of what she wanted, you know. Her dying breath wished that you would never carry Shadowbane.”

“Stop spouting lies.” Edmund growled, “Camilla, how long is this gonna take?”

“He’s got them...in there tight.” Camilla gritted her teeth.

“I killed her, you know.” Caze continued, almost a mocking tone in his voice, “Do you wanna know how it happened?”

Edmund gripped the handle of his sword and twisted the blade, much to Caze’s agony, “No.”

“Did you know that Samga...was her child?” Caze asked.

“Now I know you’re full of shit.” Edmund grimaced.

“No, no! We really did it. We took her dead corpse and impreg-”

Edmund twisted his blade again, “Shut up! Camilla!”

“I’m trying!” Camilla cried, wrenching at one of the stones with all her might, “I swear there’s a limb I’m not seeing holding them in.”

“We kept her preserved just barely alive for months. I think we got at least five Fixed Morgauls out of her.” Caze taunted.

Edmund withdrew his blade and went to stab it somewhere else, but the moment he took his arm away from the lock, Caze yanked Lara towards him and elbowed Edmund in the face. Blood splattered from his nose as he stumbled to the ground.

Caze tore Camilla away once again and released the hand that Dregu had bound.

Caze turned to Edmund, “Sometimes I envy what your tiny little human brains will believe.” he slammed Edmund to the ground again and tossed away his sword. Caze pressed his hand to Edmund’s throat and his knuckle to his temple.

Searing pain invaded Edmund’s head as an intense amount of Megyno Energy was unleashed upon him at point blank. He didn’t have his sword to absorb anything.

Edmund struggled and writhed, but could really only scream. He felt as though his skull was melting. His skin was flaking off into ash. Something was stabbing his brain from the inside.

Once again on the verge of death, Edmund was helpless.

No. No he wasn’t.

Edmund channeled all his energy into his venom. His flerish activated. He had a clear shot.

He darted his fingers out, stabbing Caze right in the neck. He stopped his attack for a second as the venom started to pump into his veins.

Caze staggered backwards, clutching his neck and roaring in pain. Edmund stumbled to his feet as Caze shunted out his fist, unleashing a powerful wave of force that sent Edmund spiraling off the edge of the platform.

No.

He saw the fate that lied before him. The ravenous maws of sixty Titanspawn.

That is, until something caught by the arm. A small metal bracer that flew him back onto the platform.

Edmund rolled onto the platform and watched as the bracer disassembled itself into a hundred metal components and returned to a dark skinned man in pristine white armor like Lara’s.  
__________________________________________________________________________

Lara thought she could hear gunshots. Caze and Edmund wrestled with each other in the background as she shook off the pain that ailed her head.

She got confirmation that what she heard was real as she stood up.

“G-Gammond…” She hissed.

Edmund was lifted back onto the platform after having been pushed off. A metal bracer on his arm detached and returned to the artificer’s armor.

“It was kind of stupid of me to let you face this alone. Or...with any amount of people aside from the maximum.” Gammond muttered, “And for the record, I’m sorry. I know you were only trying to do what you thought was right. That doesn’t change the fact that what you did was awful, but...I love you enough to know you aren’t that person. That’s also nowhere near the extent we need to ta-”

Lara sighed in relief as she hugged Gammond. The moment she did, he threw both of them to the ground as a beam of energy flew overhead.

“Less talking and hugging, more fighting.” Gammond said, getting to his feet.

Though, Caze was still half-occupied with whatever Edmund had hit him with.

“Alright, who’s this now?” Edmund asked.

“This is Gammond. My, er...former lover?” Lara frowned, “I don’t know if you two ever met.”

“Well, that just makes it sound awkward.” Gammond chortled.

“Wait, I remember you. You were that Emryd soldier on the prisoner transport.” Edmund said.

“Did you all meet each other on the same ship?” Camilla asked.

“My name is Gammond Hross. I’ve brought the Emryd army with me to help against the Titanspawn. I also recently found out-or rather, decided that I’m the Scholar.” Gammond said, “So...I guess I belong here.”

Gammond held up a Blimsvok with a socket in the end of the receiver.

“Five out of ten.” Edmund said, “I’m the Knight, she’s the Thief, he’s the Marksman.” Edmund pointed to himself, Camilla and Dregu.

“What’s your plan?” Gammond asked.

“We just need to get one stone away from Caze and he can’t open the portal.” Edmund said.

“Sounds good to me.” Gammond cocked his gun and started to fire at Caze, who had dealt with whatever had kept him down for so long.

Caze deflected his shots and unleashed a wave of golden energy back at them. Lara leapt over the wave and tossed out her whip, binding his ankle. She tried to pull him off balance, but he became far heavier in an instant than he had any right to be.

All five of them engaged Caze one after the other. When he countered one person’s attack, another unleashed an onslaught from a different angle before he even knew they were there.

Edmund danced around him with brilliant swordsmanship, while Camilla attacked at vital joints from unseen angles. Dregu always managed to let Caze forget he was there, then disable him in a significant manner like arrows to the eyes. Lara kept to binding up his limbs and restricting his movements, inflicting shallow, but numerous wounds. Gammond, meanwhile, unleashed an arsenal of every device he could come up with while showering Caze in a hail of bullets.

But even all that damage, all that effort, wasn’t enough to bring the Titanspawn down.

With the power of all ten Godstones at his disposal, Caze had no problem staving off the attacks.

Until…

Caze drew his fists apart.

“Dying Star!” Camilla shouted.

Lara ran for Edmund as he prepared to turn incorporeal.

Then a flash of white light consumed them.

Edmund only felt one hand touch him this time.

When the Dying Star passed, he looked around. Only Lara had gotten there in time.

Camilla, Gammond and Dregu were on the ground, dazed or unconscious, only alive by the grace of their weapons, each which looked ready to explode with power.

“You all caught me at a very inopportune moment.” Caze muttered. Edmund tried to close the distance, but sent flying backwards.

Edmund staggered to his feet as Caze let the beams from his fingers fly again. And it only took three seconds for the sky to explode.  
____________________________________________________________________

Lara blinked as she awoke.

She...was not where she was. Everything around her was dark blue and black, the colors swirling like mist.

“Ugh...I thought I-what in the Roil?” Edmund’s voice asked just a few feet away.

“What in the Roil, indeed.” a cold voice, calm and smooth, spoke.

Lara opened her eyes fully and saw the figure before them. Cloaked by darkness that blended with the world around them, the man before them appeared to be made out of shadows, save for his glowing blue eyes and the energy that arced over the gray skin on his face. A face that flaked away in a stream of ash at the back of his head.

“Hello there, Knight and Warlock.” the man said.

“Who are you?” Edmund asked, staggering to his feet. Lara followed suit.

“I am Vancen, Titan of Eternity.”

Lara tensed, her hand reaching for her whip. Were they too late?

“I’m aware of the apprehension you must feel in seeing me. But worry not for my full return. My body is still trapped in the Roil and will be until all ten of you Champions decide to let me out.” Vancen explained, “I come to you for a different reason.”

“What is it you want?” Lara asked.

“To explain a few things.”

Edmund drew his blade, “We don’t have time for explanations.”

“Of course you do. My dear friend Gaea has complete control over time. Or at least, your perception of it.” Vancen said, “My former underling, Caze, wields a very powerful and dangerous weapon.”

“The Stones. They create Dying Star explosions.” Lara said.

“Precisely.” Vancen nodded slowly, “I need you to take the stones from him and prevent another Dying Star from ever being created again.”

Lara let her whip uncoil.

“Your distrust is reasonable, considering the way the narrative of the War has been spun.” Vancen said, “But you must understand that all I do is for the good of our world.”

Edmund scoffed, “That’s like saying Bronduk only cares about people’s individual interests.”

“I created the Abyss some eleven hundred years ago now. It is more or less the same. Titanspawn birthing, living, eating and dying over and over again in pits of oil and grime.” Vancen said, “But when I first peered into the Roil, raw and unfiltered, I saw our world from the outside and the Roil from the inside.”

“And what did you see that convinced you to start a war so big the Ansami Empire collapsed?” Lara asked.

“I saw the Roilborn.” Vancen said, his eyes distant. Almost haunted. “Those creatures that take the form of angels, demons, dragons and other such beasts in your worlds are in reality, formless creatures of unknown intellect and ravenous consumption. Their power, Megyno energy, which our world has used for millennia, is the way that they infect and invade our world. The disease called Megysis lets them seep their influence into us and possess our bodies and minds.”

Lara shook her head, “Megysis was just a tool for you. You used it to gain power within the Ansami Council.”

“That, I did. But I didn’t know what Megysis truly was then.” Vancen said.

“Are you buying this?” Lara asked Edmund.

He stared contemplatively, “It would explain why eating raw Crystals are so bad for you.”

“Yes. They offer you power, but in order to use it, you must accept the Roil into your body. The gods are the main propagators of this lie of power.” Vancen insisted.

Lara didn’t believe him. What he said sounded thesable, but...he was Vancen. The first Titan. The man who had tried to kill the gods. But this would be a good reason to do so. Or a convenient excuse.

And she had met Tialeis personally. She could never forget that experience. How could a god as great as him be this eldritch parasite from the Roil?

“I need you two to defeat Caze. I will lend you what power I can. The energies around you are incredibly raw and incredibly dangerous. Drawing on them may be equivalent to inviting a Roilborn to take control of you.” Vancen said, “Whether you believe me or not, I simply need Caze to be killed. The Dying Star can never be allowed to reform and another portal as big as this can never again exist. Understand me?”

Edmund nodded, “Can you get us our stones back from him? We don’t consume them, so they should be safe, right?”

Vancen returned the gesture, “I can get them to you. Just don’t let him get away alive.”

Lara was still running through all the possibilities in her head. She wasn’t sure. But...she was sure that Caze had to be defeated. Whether it invited some kind of otherworldly invasion or not, the Dying Star would bring calamity to the world nonetheless.

“I...I’ll help.” Lara said, “Send us back. We’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you.” the Titan nodded, full of gratitude and sorrow.  
_____________________________________________________________

The sky let out an explosion of Megyno energy that was nearly as strong as a Dying Star.

Like a vortex, the portal opened a wide maw of rushed blue rivulets of energy and everflowing power.

The disc under Caze and the clouds nearby started to crystalize. It was very slow, but it was steady.

He looked upon the face of the Roil with a madly giddy expression on his face.

One thousand years. It had taken him one thousand years and he had finally done it. Today, he would kill the Titans.

“I know you’re in there, Vancen, you cowardly wretch!” Caze roared at the sky, “Did a thousand years of prison render you a eunuch?”

No answer came from the portal aside from the warbling of the energy.

“Come out of your hole and let me kill you, you bastard!” Caze shouted. Had he been too late? No, this was the Zenith.

But what if he had calculated it wrong? Was he just screaming into the sky like a fool?

“A millennium of time and still you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut.”

A chill ran up Caze’s spine. Part from excitement, part from fear.

Caze turned over his shoulder.

Draped in a long collared coat made of shadows, Vancen, the Titan of Eternity, glared a scrutinous eye at Caze. His pupils and gray dermis crackled with blue energy like the Roil itself. Darkness rose from his form like smoke.

Aside from all the supernatural qualities, the Titan looked just the way Caze remembered him. Constantly furrowed and jutted out brow, hard expression and distant gaze included.

“Tastes like...death.” Vancen muttered, his voice reverberating through the air, “You used a Dying Star.”

“Still hung up on that?” Caze growled, “You created it. Why do you fear it?”

“All worthy creations eventually surpass their creator.” Vancen said, “Last I recalled, you despised me to my very core. So tell why you’ve released me from my prison.”

“To finish you, obviously.” Caze gritted his teeth. He flashed his ten God Stone, charging himself with power.

Vancen looked upon the fruits of his work...and he laughed.

“You would’ve made a finer jester than a commander.” Vancen returned to his stoic expression, “I am only here in spirit. My body cannot be released from the Roil without the successors of my original wardens. And here I see only five. Writhing around as if in pain.”

“What?” Caze gasped.

“You didn’t think Hybald would make it that easy, did you?” Vancen asked, “But you did. So now you sit here like a daft child, letting more of this accursed energy leak into and infect your world!”

Caze flinched. Vancen really had been driven mad by his prison. But mad or not, he was still unkillable!

Perhaps his body would remain alive, but spirits could be killed.

Caze launched his fists forward, unleashing the power of all ten God Stones on Vancen’s form.

The beams of energy passed through him.

“N-no. How? After all I did...after all I worked for...I have all of them!” Caze roared, “Why do you stand there, unscathed?”

Vancen reached his hand up and closed it into a fist. With that simple action, the portal in the sky closed up and vanished.

“I appreciate you setting my consciousness free. At least I am able to enact the necessary steps upon the material realm.” Vancen muttered, “But if it is a fight you so desire, then perhaps you should fight my newest stewards…”

Two stones escaped Caze’s grasp and flew towards the Champions. The Knight and the Warlock let them sink into the pommels of their weapons.  
_____________________________________________________

Edmund snapped his eyes open. He was back, facing down Caze. The Clarion Stone was where it belonged. Same with Lara and the Cruelty Stone.

Neither hesitated to sprout wings and soar into the sky. Edmund could feel the energy coursing through his veins. It wasn’t Megyno. In fact, it was better.

Edmund dove down, sword ready to strike. He laid a flurry of blows upon the Titanspawn. Caze blocked and deflected them with the power of the Outlasting Stone, the Architect’s property.

Despite that, Edmund still opened him up to receive a spray of violet toxins from Lara’s maw. Caze backed away, coughing up a storm.

 _He’s switching to the Enlightenment Stone and the Brilliance Stone. He’s about to join you in the air._ Nadriel’s warning reverberated in his head.

_Hey. Aren’t you a Roilborn?_

_Yes. But I am sworn to you. Not my kind. Moreover, I am not even old enough to know whether or not that is the purpose of Roilborn here._

Edmund sighed in relief, contradictory to his actual feelings as Caze leapt into the air, surrounded by a multicolored aura of power.

Caze assaulted Edmund with blow after blow, supplemented by his intense power. But with the Clarion Stone, he was able to block and parry every incoming strike. Edmund swung his saber, unleashing the charged up kinetic energy and sending Caze flying backwards.

Lara caught Caze’s attention and engaged him in some kind of mental battle, evidenced by the flowing of energy between them. Edmund took the opportunity and swung at his neck.

 _He sees you!_ Nadriel warned a moment before Caze dodged Edmund’s attack by a hair and retaliated with a solid blow to the face. The shockwave of Megyno that ran over Edmund sent him spiraling downwards.

He caught himself and swooped low, flying around the battle and returning just as Lara was starting to go on the backfoot in a grappling match with Caze.

Edmund slashed down Caze’s back, essentially cutting his spine in half. But Caze’s regenerative abilities were so great that the cut healed only seconds after it had been made.

Caze threw Lara off of him and blasted Edmund back again, keeping him away from the fight. Caze followed up his shove with a particularly nasty-sounded punch to Lara’s head. She slammed into the black platform with an explosion of dust.

Hopefully she wasn't completely out of the fight just yet.

Edmund swooped down and directed a spinning kick at Caze’s ribs before he could get any sort of lethal blow on Lara. Caze slid to the edge of the platform as Edmund landed and readied himself.

“I see you’ve both been tricked by that conniving bastard.” Caze growled.

“I don’t think you have any right to call anybody a conniving bastard.” Edmund said.

“Nor do you have any right to challenge me. You’re a boy. A child. And yet, you’ve still managed to steal my daughter away from me.” Caze said.

“She was long gone from you before she even ran away. And guess who’s fault that was? Yours.” Edmund said.

Caze lifted his hand up to the sky, “No matter whose fault it is, I’m still going to kill you.”

Edmund and Caze engaged in a tornado of metal clashing with metal. Edmund, with his saber. Caze with his bare hands. Edmund finally pushed Caze away after an exhausting bout and reprepared himself.

_Violence Stone. Lightning incoming._

Dark clouds gathered around the space above them and a bolt of lightning shot down towards Edmund. He raised his blade and let the energy be absorbed into his blade.

Caze didn’t relent, however. The Titanspawn tackled Edmund in the air and directed their momentum upwards.

Edmund slammed on Caze’s back as they rose higher and higher, but he wouldn’t budge. Caze didn’t need to breathe to be alive. Or at least, Edmund thought that was a reasonable assumption. Edmund, on the other hand, absolutely needed air. And it was starting to grow thinner.

Edmund kneed, kicked, elbowed and punched Caze with every ounce of effort he had in him. Then he realized something. They flew through clouds.

Casting a Truthfler, Edmund waterlogged all the open spaces in Caze’s mechanical arms and froze them brittle.

Edmund broke free from Caze’s much more fragile grip and let himself fall. He activated his second ability of the Truthfler and saw Caze’s future flight pattern before him. But Caze cast his own Truthfler, mixing the single path forward with a million others.

Edmund huffed in midair as he extended his wings and let himself be caught by air resistance, slamming a foot into Caze’s gut. The Titanspawn would’ve had the wind knocked out of him if there were wind there in the first place.

His saber flew through the air, aimed at Caze’s neck. Caze knocked the attempt to kill him away and slammed a shockwave of power into Edmund. He was suddenly falling twice as fast. Caze caught up and continued to push Edmund faster and faster until they slammed into the platform.

Upon impact, the platform’s attachments to the towers shattered and snapped. Caze took the whole platform with him as he slammed Edmund into the ground.  
_____________________________________________________

Lara woke up just in time to see Caze smash Edmund into the platform so hard that the platform fell with them. She was able to gather up Gammond, Camilla and Dregu and get them to safety, but that left Caze uncontested.

She flew across the still raging battlefield and aimed straight for Caze.

Lara unleashed the full fury she was capable of in this form, using every claw, wing and tail to batter Caze as much as possible.

 _Welcome back._ A deep male voice echoed in her head.

She knew of these voices from her studies. Now that she was more conscious than last time, she could recall.

 _You’re Dreketh. The demon whose spine was used to make the whip._ Lara guessed.

_Correct. Oh, and you’re going to want to duck._

Lara did as the demon suggested as Caze fired off two energy beams at the point where her head had been.

_With me, he won’t be able to use his Truthfler to see your movements._

Lara spewed another cloud of toxic gas at the Titanspawn, sending him reeling.

Both of them landed on the destroyed platform as Lara readied her whip. She would need to get close to effectively hurt him. The wings would just get in the way.

Lara dissipated her demonic aspects and charged. Caze swung his fist at her, but she ducked under it, wrapping his wrist with her whip and throwing him over her shoulder.

Caze recovered almost flawlessly and was immediately on a counterattack.

They traded blows with each other, fighting like two extremely powerful Oros Monks. Lara fought with quickness and efficiency, precise with each movement and always a step quicker than Caze. The Titanspawn, meanwhile, was slower, but had more power behind each blow.

Lara slammed her palm into Caze’s face, burning the flesh with her Nihilfler. The artificial skin hissed. Caze tore her hand off and staggered backwards. A metallic skull was partway revealed under his dermis.

Caze ran at her, clearly enraged with the destruction for his face.

Lara responded with a surge of electricity from her hand, striking Caze square in the chest. He stumbled backwards and nearly collapsed, but it didn’t stun him the same as lesser Titanspawn. 

She followed up with lash from her whip. Serrated spikes out, she swung up, catching Caze in the jaw. He kept his footing, but his jaw was warped and bent.

Using one of the stones, Caze righted the damage. She wasn’t sure if that was a healing ability or if it was just manipulation of his skeleton.

Caze slammed his fist into the destroyed platform. A split second later, a small pillar of stone slammed into her ribs. She had her Roilplate, yes, but the Dying Star had shattered all her crystals. So it still hurt like a mother fucker.

Lara staggered backwards, but returned the favor with a series of lashes with her whip, sending Caze off balance and lacerating his body. 

She leapt at him, but he moved from her path and pinned her down instead. He clamped his palm around her temple and invaded her mind with one of the stones.

Lara fought back against the invasion by slipping into his mind.

Without heed, Lara decimated whatever she could among his memories, causing him to retreat from her mind to battle in his.

Unfortunately for her, Caze’s mental strength was damn near incomprehensible.

Back in the physical world, Lara slammed her fist into Caze’s nose and rolled over, pinning him under a lock. But Caze’s limbs could move in unnatural ways, slipping free and elbowing her in the lip.

Lara fell back, blood spurting from her mouth. Caze stood and followed up with a kick to the face. Stars exploded across Lara’s vision as everything around her went blurry.

Caze lifted her by the throat, his grip crushing her windpipe and her neck bones.

“Die.” Caze growled, “So I can end the lineage of the Champions forever.”

The corners of her vision darkened until she was a glimmer of metal in Caze’s eye.

Lara was dropped, gasping for breath. She looked up and saw the tip of Edmund’s saber jutting out through his right eye.

Edmund drew the sword out, letting Caze collapse. Edmund fell to his knees as well, eyes bloodshot and crimson spilling from his mouth.


	33. Epilogue

Edmund had to be rushed to a Preserver. According to the healer, his spine had essentially been shattered like glass. He was lucky none of it really got out of place before he was healed.

With Caze dead, the Titanspawn were noticeably less aggressive and their numbers were cut down by the three armies significantly. Only a few hunting parties were needed to kill off the stragglers.

Edmund sat on a particularly large boulder that overlooked the Origin Lands. The sun was setting in the distance while the soldiers of the Morgauls, Atrellians and Emryds partied like there was no tomorrow in a small reclaimed section of the plain.

A pair of footsteps approached him from behind. He turned a glance at them.

“Hey.” Lara muttered.

She took a seat on the rock next to him.

“Hey.” Edmund said, “Do you feel...oddly mellow?”

Lara nodded.

“You’ve changed quite a bit since that prisoner transport, haven’t you?” Edmund said.

“Is that a bad thing?” Lara asked.

Edmund chortled, “No way.”

“Well you seem to have changed just as much.”

“What are you talking about?” Edmund asked, “I’m the same old rogue who stole your coin pouch that one evening. Just...better.”

“Better is change.” Lara smiled.

“I still can’t get over the fact that we actually...saved the world. Kind of.” Edmund sighed.

“What do you think about all that? What Vancen said.” Lara asked.

Edmund shrugged, “I don’t really wanna believe him, but...I can’t help feeling like he’s right. I mean...is power the only thing that could drive someone to kill a god?”

“Believe me. It’s possible with some people.” Lara said.

“Hm. Well, I think I believe him.” Edmund replied.

“Ugh...I still don’t know what to think. I...I met Tialeis. The god.” Lara grumbled.

“Seriously?” Edmund asked.

Lara nodded, “After having met him, I just...there’s no way what Vancen said could be true.”

“There’s time for thinking about that sort of stuff later.” Edmund said.

“Yeah, you two especially should be celebrating.” a familiar bard’s voice rang.

Edmund turned. Pasco, Camilla, Dregu, Gammond and an auriok woman stood behind them.

“Lucia!” Lara gasped.

She stood and ran to hug the auriok.

“Hey, there. Easy, easy. I just woke up.” the auriok, Lucia, said, “And apparently I missed all the good stuff. Oh, by the way, while I vehemently disagree with it and agree with Gam that you should be severely punished, I still think taking over the government single handedly was pretty cool.”

“Uh...thanks.” Lara drew away sheepishly.

“You did what?” Edmund asked.

“It’s a long story.” Lara sighed.

“Hey, you.” Camilla grinned deviously as she grabbed onto his arm, “How do you feel?”

“Well, my spine isn’t in pieces anymore. But I’m still exhausted as hell.” Edmund muttered.

Camilla planted a kiss on his lips, “That’s good. Anything worth doing exhausts you. I assume you’re not really in the mood for partying, though.”

Edmund chuckled, “I think I’d just die at that rate.” He glanced at Dregu. The Morgaul held a linen-wrapped infant in his arms, “Hey. You still have that baby?”

The Morgaul shrugged, “It has no family. I’m going to have to lead my people to a new homeland to keep us safe from the Affliction. So I thought it might be good practice to raise a child. Though, I’m not sure I could find a wife this early into my career as a warrior.”

“Hm. Good luck with that. And thank you for your help.” Edmund nodded.

“No, thank you for helping my people free themselves.” Dregu said, “And it is customary to show gratitude in a good duel.”

“Duel me some other time when I’m not on the brink of collapse.” Edmund waved away.

“Hmph. I’ll hold you to that, Isley.” Dregu said, leaving the others to join the party.

“Hey, Eddy, I don’t mean to be a bearer of bad news,” Pasco said, “But we are almost definitely going to be executed once we return to Atrell. So...where are you, Camilla and I and...well, the rest of the army gonna go?”

Edmund blinked. He was right. Just in the past few days, Edmund had violated so many laws, not even the Knight would be spared from them. Who would take in an army?

Edmund glanced at Lara, who was apparently in the middle of a reunion with her ex-lover, Gammond. And they seemed happy to see each other. Especially given the kissing.

“Lara.” Edmund called, ending their kiss, much to Lara’s irritation, “Does Emreth have room for like...five thousand Atrellian soldiers?”

Lara looked to Gammond, “I’m not a Consul. I wouldn’t know.”

“Er…” Gammond hesitated, “We might be able to. We took some heavy losses and having a dedicated army could keep us from having to draft so many people.”

“By the way, that five thousand include us three buffoons.” Pasco said, pointing to himself, Edmund and Camilla.

Gammond nodded, “I’ll see what I can do. Emreth isn’t exactly a one-person-decides nation anymore, but I’m certain we can come to an arrangement.”

“Oh.” Edmund said, “We-Lara and I-have something to tell you.”

“We do?” Lara asked.

“Yes.” Edmund said, “It’s about the Titans. And their self-proclaimed true-purpose.”


End file.
